


Opening Your Eyes To The Light

by creativewoman88



Series: The Light Saga [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Friendship, John is John, Sibling Feelings, dealing with the loss of a parent, having to grow up fast, learning about hunting, slowly building a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 82,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9560534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativewoman88/pseuds/creativewoman88
Summary: Alyson Daniels is a normal, every day teenager until she comes home one day and gets the biggest surprise of her life. How will meeting Sam and Dean change her life and how will she cope with that change? How will she learn to live with the changes when certain abilities begin to manifest? I have this listed as friendship, but romance will come into it in the sequel.





	1. Chapter One

Chapter One

It all started with a dream. Sam Winchester still wasn't used to having dreams that came true. He hadn't always had dreams like that and he didn't want to have them now, but he did. The dreams were of people in trouble and they almost always had something to do with the demon that had killed his and Dean's mom. The first dream he'd had like that was of his girlfriend dying. Sam had ignored them, thinking they couldn't possibly be true, but he'd learned from his mistake since then because she had died. So this time when he woke up from the dream he shot up from the bed and started getting his things together.

Some blond girl was going to be in trouble; he didn't get much information, only a license plate number.

"Dean!" he exclaimed. "Wake up! We gotta go, now."

Dean looked at him warily. Dean didn't like anything that was happening to Sam. Sam knew Dean worried about the dreams and what they meant even more than he did. Dead didn't want to know what they meant, so he, therefore, didn't like them.

"Come on, get packed," Sam said. "Some girl, she's gonna . . . Well, I don't know, but it can't be good."

Sam had seen a house or the upstairs of one anyway. There had been blood, a bedroom, an older woman – Sam was fairly certain the woman was the girl's mom. He wondered if the girl was going to be the one to hurt the woman. They would have to get there to stop it, if that was the case.

\-----

Alyson Daniel's alarm clock woke her up as it did every other day of the week for school. She dreaded going to school because it was so monotonous, but she knew she had to go anyway. If only one could skip school on account of it being boring.

She so wanted to push the snooze button on the alarm clock and lay there for just five more minutes, but that would have been difficult because she had broken the clock a long time ago. She had woken up in a bad mood and had hit the snooze button a little too hard and now the snooze button didn't work anymore.

"Alyson, breakfast is on the table," her mother's voice came from the kitchen, which was downstairs. "You better come eat it before it gets cold."

"Coming," she responded. Her mom didn't call for her again, so Alyson assumed she'd heard.

She got out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, which was bigger than the average bathroom. It was bigger than Alyson needed, but it made her mom happy, so whatever. Alyson thought the size of the bathroom was ridiculous herself, but her mom was a high-maintenance woman. Alyson had taken a shower and had washed her hair the night before, so she just rinsed her face with semi-cold water to wake herself up. It helped only a little.

She headed back into her room to get dressed. She went to her walk-in-closet and picked out a black camisole with a white tank-top. The tank-top was slightly shorter than the camisole, so the black showed at the bottom of the tank-top. She put on a pair of blue jeans and flip-flops.

Alyson lived in Southern California. It was spring and it was pretty warm that day. The weather had been strange lately – electric storms and such – but it seemed like it would be an okay day to dress for warm weather.

"Alyson Daniels!"

"I'm coming, Mom," she said. "I need to brush my hair. I'll be down after that."

Alyson looked in the mirror. Her dirty blond hair was messy and she liked it that way, but it did need to be brushed. Her hair was naturally wavy and it came down to the middle of her back and was in layers. She picked up her brush and stroked it through her hair.

When she was satisfied with her reflection she smiled and put down her brush. Now she was ready.

When Alyson got downstairs she saw her mom standing over the stove and smiling. That had never happened before. Her mom detested cooking.

"Should I get a camera or can I get used to this happening?" Alyson teased.

"No, this is a one time deal. You know how I feel about kitchen duty."

Alyson was slightly disappointed, but she didn't blame her mom because she hated cooking also. It was boring to her.

She looked at the table and saw a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon. Alyson wondered if it was edible. It wasn't that her mom was a bad cook; it was just that the woman was out of practice. They had a chef that would come in and cook breakfast and dinner for them, which was okay because the food was amazing.

"How come I get the special breakfast treatment?"

"Well, you are graduating this weekend. I thought I could try to fix breakfast for you as an early reward. It's more special because I made it."

Alyson smiled at the gesture and sat down at the table. She picked up a piece of bacon, took a deep breath, and stuck it in her mouth, and for dramatic affect she left it there without swallowing. She made sure her mother saw that she seemed to be taste testing the food.

Her mom rolled her eyes and reached over to pick a piece of bacon off of her plate to plop it into her own mouth.

"Well, if you're not gonna eat it . . ."

After that, Alyson began gobbling everything down fast so her mom couldn't take it from her. When she finished, Alyson kissed her mother on the cheek and said good-bye. At the front door, she picked up her book bag and purse as she went out. She pulled her car keys from her purse and went to unlock the car, a silver Honda Civic that her mom had bought her for her when she'd turned seventeen.

Alyson liked classic cars and had wanted something that was a little tougher, but her mother had told her that a Honda Civic was more sensible for a girl.

Once the door was open, Alyson tossed her book bag into the passenger seat and she turned the car on. The radio came on automatically because she had left it on the last time she'd been in it, and a soft rock song blasted through the speakers. She immediately reached for the dial to turn the volume down – she really needed to remember to turn the radio off before she got out of the car.

\-----

"Are you sure this is the place?" Dean asked as he pulled into a school parking lot.

He didn't know why Sam wanted to meet this girl outside of her school, but they were there anyway. Sam said something about getting a read on her mental state. Because Sam had had a dream about this girl, they automatically knew that she was somehow connected to the demon that had killed their mother. Dean didn't know if that meant she was going to be hurt by the demon or if she would end up working for the demon or if she just had an ability or something. He hoped that wasn't the case because this girl – Alyson Daniels, if the research they'd done meant anything – was younger than Sam, which would mean that more than one generation of kids had powers that were connected to the demon.

"This is the school that she would go to if her address is right," Sam answered. "Look for the car."

The brothers looked for a silver Honda Civic that had the license plate that Sam had seen in his dream or vision or whatever it was. When they found the car, they debated on whether they should just follow her home or get to know her now.

"I want to talk to her," Sam said. "We need to find a way to stall her, keep her from going home right away."

Dean grinned at his brother. "I have just the thing."

\-----

The school day had passed by very slowly, but Alyson had made it through her last class of the day. She was supposed to go out to dinner with some of her friends later that night and she needed to get home now and take a shower. She was planning on straightening her hair and she still hadn't picked out an outfit.

She should've been going to her self-defense class, but she figured that she could skip one practice – this dinner was more important. She and her friends were going to celebrate their last week of their senior year by eating dinner and then scarfing down more dessert than the human body should have.

Alyson was in the middle of a crowd of students who were making their way to their lockers. Her locker was somewhere in the middle of this massive din, and she made it there slowly. She tried her combination and got frustrated when the locker wouldn't open. She had had trouble with this locker from the beginning of the year, but she liked the location so she had put up with the occasional problem.

You had to take the good with the bad, she always thought.

"Is that thing bothering you again?" a voice came from off to the side.

Alyson looked around because she knew that voice. Layla Stevens, her best friend, was standing there beside her, smirking with amusement.

"Yes," Alyson answered her.

"It's your own fault. You should have gotten a new one at the beginning of the year."

"Yeah, yeah." She tried her combination but still got zero joy. She kicked it and it opened. "Are you still going to the dinner tonight?"

"If I can find something to wear."

"Okay." That would be easy. Layla had even more clothes than Alyson did.

Alyson grabbed her backpack from the inside of the locker and slammed the door shut.

"You know, maybe if you treated your locker better, it would do what you wanted."

"Layla, sweetie, the locker is an inanimate object. It doesn't care how it's being treated." Layla looked like she was going to say something smart but then chose not to. "Anyway, it opens after I kick it so maybe it likes being mistreated. It's masochistic."

Layla grinned and rolled her eyes.

As they began walking toward the exit of the school Layla asked if she could get a ride home from Alyson. Even though it was out of her way, Alyson said yes. She wasn't going to make Layla walk home when it might rain.

They walked in comfortable silence until they reached the front of the school and Layla brought up some random question she'd had on her pre-calculus exam.

In essence, Layla said that since she'd thought it was easy, she'd probably been doing the problem wrong.

Alyson smiled and shook her head. This was Layla – she was cynical all the time, but Alyson loved that about her.

"Anyway," Layla started, this time a little more cheerful, "Are you picking me up tonight or am I supposed to find my own way?"

"I'll pick you up. I mean, unless you wanna walk there."

"No, I'd rather not."

Alyson and Layla walked out of the school and into the parking lot. It wasn't raining yet, but the sky held signs that there might be showers on the way.

When they got to Alyson's car, Alyson noticed that her left front tire was flat. She dropped her bag on the ground in frustration and felt like kicking her tire, but thought better of it when she remembered she only had on flip-flops.

"We'll need to call someone," she said. "I have no idea how to change a tire. Maybe you should catch a ride with someone else."

"I'm not leaving you here alone," Layla said.

There were a bunch of students still there, so it wasn't like Alyson would be left alone. She probably wouldn't have wanted to leave Layla alone either, however, if the situation had been reversed.

"Okay."

Alyson took her cell phone out of her pocket and would have dialed the number for roadside assistance if a voice hadn't interrupted her train of thought.

"Do you girls need help?"

Alyson looked to where the voice came from and saw two guys who were both freakishly tall compared to her measly 5'3". The one who had spoken had light brown hair that was kind of spiky; he was slightly shorter than the other one, whose hair was darker and longer.

"Depends," Layla said. "How fast can you change a tire?"

"Probably faster than either of us," Alyson said, leaning toward her friend, trying to get her attention so Layla would know not to be so tough with these two guys who might be able to help them out of this sticky situation.

"I can do it. Ten minutes, tops," the same guy spoke. "Do you have a spare?"

"Of course. It's in the trunk."

Alyson dug her keys out of her purse and went to the trunk of her car to open it. All the while, she was thinking that her tire shouldn't have been flat. Her mom had just paid to get four new ones put on. Unless the merchandise had been faulty, her tire should have been fine. Or maybe she'd run over something on the way to school that morning – she didn't know.

"What are you guys doing here anyway?" Layla asked. "I mean, not that you don't have a right to be here because it's a free country and you do, but you don't look like teachers and you don't look like students either."

The other guys finally spoke. "We're just passing through. We needed to check the map, so we parked here."

"Do you have names?" It was a stupid question, but it was also a valid one. They'd been talking for over a minute and no one had offered up their name.

"I'm Sam," the one with longer, darker hair said. "This is my brother Dean." He nodded toward Dean.

"What about you girls? Are you going to tell us what to call you?" Dean asked.

Layla spoke before Alyson could. "I'm Layla. She's Alyson. It's nice of you to do this for us." She looked at Sam and Dean. "You two aren't weirdo perverts, are you?"

"Layla!" Alyson exclaimed. To say that Layla didn't mince words would have been the absolute truth.

"Well, I'm not," Sam said, grinning. "But Dean here definitely is."

Dean didn't say anything to that. It didn't even look like it had bothered him much, which probably meant that it was true and he didn't care what his brother thought.

Dean got the tire out of the trunk along with a jack he was going to need.

"So, this seems like a pretty nice place," Sam said.

"Not if you live here," Layla said.

"Yeah. Things get dull after a while," Alyson agreed, though her tone wasn't as cynical or clipped as Layla's had been.

"Really? Seems like a pretty decent place to grow up."

"Yeah," Dean spoke up. "Temperature's nice and all that stuff – you're free to roam around."

"Actually," Alyson said, "the weather has been kind of strange lately with all the temperature fluctuations and storms. It's not normal."

Alyson noticed Sam and Dean look at each other. She wondered what the significance of that was.

"You don't strike me as the weather watching type," Dean said.

"You've known me for less than two minutes. How could you possibly know what I'm like?" She wasn't being snippy. She was just asking a question, and was maybe even flirting a little.

"Well, she's got you there, Dean," Sam said and smiled.

Dean continued to work on the car and Alyson didn't really pay attention to what he was doing. He could've been doing it completely wrong and she wouldn't have known.

"This tire looks brand new," Dean remarked. "You should complain to the company you got it from."

Ha, Alyson thought. She'd been right. She shouldn't have been having problems with the tires.

Sam started talking to both Layla and Alyson Somehow they got to talking about school or what was left of it anyway.

"So you're graduating this weekend?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Alyson answered. "It should be fun. Finally get out of high school."

"You don't like this school?" Sam asked.

"Well, it's not exactly this school as much as it's any school. All school is good for is giving you a headache and making you get up at the crack of why the heck am I awake."

Dean laughed as he stood up and put the jack back in the trunk of the car. "You know, I had the same attitude when I was growing up."

"You still have that attitude," Sam said.

"Yeah, well, whatever. School sucked." Dean looked at the two girls. "Knowledge Boy here loved school."

"I'm not saying I hate it," Alyson said. "I like learning, just not the things school wants to teach me. It's boring and you're never gonna need it in life unless you become a scientist or something like that. Normal, every day jobs don't require you to know about history or algebra and trigonometry."

"Okay, we get it," Layla interrupted her. "Death to all boring classes. But I need to get home, so can you stop with the ranting?"

Alyson grinned apologetically in Sam's and Dean's direction. She always got caught up in ranting when she was passionate about something.

"Sorry. I'm a yammerer. I'd still be yammering if she hadn't stopped me."

"Anyway," Layla said, grabbing Alyson's arm. "Thank you guys."

"Hey, no problem. We're all about the good deeds," Dean replied.

"Do you think it's okay for you to drive home?" Sam asked. "If you just got new tires put on and one of them already went flat . . ."

"We could follow you," Dean suggested. "Make sure you both get home okay."

"I don't know," Alyson said hesitantly. "I don't really have far to go. Is that really necessary?"

"We just wanna make sure you get there alright," Sam said. "There are some people who would take advantage of a situation like this. Not help you, you know?"

Something about the way he said that made Alyson agree to let them follow behind her car. The two guys headed toward a car that Alyson would've loved to have, but her mom would have freaked out if she'd seen Alyson driving it. A black '67 Impala.

"That's your car?" she asked.

"Yep," Dean answered proudly.

"It's hot," both girls commented.

"And yet you're driving a Civic?"

"My mom's fault. She said it's a more sensible car for a girl."

She got her keys out of the trunk keyhole and got into the car.

\-----

"So she seems sane to me," Dean said. "You?"

"Normal girl," Sam said. "Normal behavior. Doesn't seem evil or suspicious."

Dean and Sam both knew that just because the girl looked normal didn't mean she was normal. Sam looked completely normal, hiding the fact that he was some kind of precog.

By the time Alyson dropped Layla off, it was sprinkling and about a minute after that it started pouring. It was like a waterfall from the sky. They pulled up to a two story house that definitely belonged in the rich part of the neighborhood. Apparently her parents were loaded.

Dean parked the Impala behind Alyson's Civic and watched as the teen got out of her car and walked toward theirs. It was still raining hard, but she seemed to want to talk to them for a second. Dean rolled the window down and looked at her.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. I just wanted to say thank you."

"For changing your tire or for following you home?" Dean asked.

She grinned. "Both, actually." She looked up at the sky before looking back at them. "Anyway, I'm getting soaked, so I'm gonna go."

She turned to walk away, but Sam's voice stopped her. She turned back around

"Do you think I could use your bathroom?"

"Oh, um . . . I don't know. I mean, I don't mind, but my mom is in there and . . ." She paused and in that moment, Dean could tell she really didn't care what her mom would think about them coming in. "Yeah, I guess."

Sam smiled at her and opened the car door to get out. Dean followed suit and Alyson led them to the front door. She was moving quickly – almost running – but the two guys had no problem keeping up because of their long legs.

Once at the door, she put the key in and unlocked it. They walked into the house and Dean watched Alyson put her book bag on the floor.

The house was almost eerily silent, Alyson noticed as she began looking for her mom. No one was in the living room, and there was no sound coming from the kitchen.

"Mom?" she called and didn't get an answer. It didn't really bother her because she knew that if her mother was upstairs, she probably hadn't heard Alyson calling for her.

She looked at Sam. "Come on, I'll show you where the bathroom is."

Alyson began going upstairs and sensed that Sam had followed her.

"Mom? You up here?" She really wanted her mom to meet the two guys who had basically saved her life – or at least had saved her from having to call a tow truck.

They got to the top of the stairs and she pointed the way to the bathroom. The guest bathroom was straight down the hall.

Sam started walking toward the bathroom, so she went to her mom's room. The door was closed, but she went in anyway. She was hoping that maybe her mom was just napping, but that wasn't the case.

What she saw made her want to run back downstairs and out the front door screaming her head off. Her mom was on the floor in a puddle of blood that was coming from her neck.

There were so many thoughts running through her mind, but for the life of her she couldn't remember any of them. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She knew that if she didn't sit down soon she would probably collapse.

Someone had killed her mother. Who would've wanted to do that? Her mother had never hurt anyone, had tried her best never to offend anyone, so who would've done something like this?

Alyson heard a creak come from behind her, so she turned around. A man with yellow eyes was standing there. She watched as the bedroom door clicked shut.

"I've been waiting for you," the yellow-eyed man said.

She didn't know how she found the power to speak, but she did when she asked, "Why?"

"I came here to kill you."

"You . . ." Why would anyone want to kill her? Like her mother, Alyson had never done anything to anyone that was worth killing over.

"Who are you?" she asked. "What are you?"

Alyson didn't get an answer. Instead she got thrown across the room by an invisible force. Her back was pressed against the wall and she was slowly rising in the air. She heard someone screaming her name, but it was as if it were from a distance. There was a gunshot, and then she was falling. The shock of hitting the floor made her more alert.

When she looked around, the yellow-eyed man wasn't there. She didn't know how he had disappeared; she was just thankful he had. She tried to stand up, but she fell to her knees and didn't try again. She tried to focus on her breathing because she was close to hyperventilating.

"Are you hurt?"

She was aware of the hand on her shoulder, and she heard Dean ask the question, but didn't answer because she couldn't find the strength to.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically just the aftermath of Alyson's mom's death.

"Are you hurt?" Dean repeated the question he'd asked a few seconds before because Alyson hadn't answered him. She seemed to be trying to answer because he could see her mouth moving, but nothing was coming out.

Dean leaned down in front of her and then he was shaking her gently. "Can you hear me?"

Her breathing became even more irregular than before, but she grabbed his arm, letting him know that even though she was speaking, she was hearing him.

"Alyson? You need to answer me. I can't help you unless you do."

Dean looked closely at the blond girl in front of him and knew she was one step away from losing it; soon he would have a crying girl in his arms. A crying teenage girl that he wouldn't know what to do with.

"I think she's going into shock." That was Sam, and he was wrong. She wasn't going into shock; she was already there. Dean understood that. The girl, as far as he knew was a normal girl, and to have this thrown on her wasn't something she seemed to be able to deal with. She had only just come home from school; no one expects to find their mother dead on the floor of her bedroom after such a normal thing. He figured anyone else would be in the same position she was in.

Alyson blinked a few times. The girl was trembling, but Dean watched her take a few steadying breaths. She seemed to consciously be doing so. She was aware enough to make herself breathe normally again. Dean could tell that she was trying to keep her eyes open, but he could also tell that her mind was trying to shut down. Maybe that would've been better. She would have peace for a few minutes instead of the swirling range of emotions and confusion that was her life at the moment.

"Sam, call the cops," Dean said.

"Okay," his brother obeyed.

Sam went by him and Alyson, and Dean noticed that the girl followed his brother with her eyes. Her brown orbs landed on her mom's lifeless body once again and Dean heard her whimper.

"Hey," Dean whispered. "Look at me."

She did.

"Just keep your eyes on me, okay?" No, he couldn't undo the damage of what she'd already seen, but he could keep her from seeing it again.

The girl nodded. "Yeah. Eyes on you." She was actually speaking now; that was good.

"Can you walk?"

He helped her stand up and that was as far as she got. It turned out, shaking and walking didn't well together. Her legs gave out on her as soon as she was on her feet.

Dean caught her before she hit the ground again.  
\-----  
Alyson had her arms around Dean's neck and he was carrying her. One arm was under her legs and the other was at her back – it was almost like he was cradling her. She closed her eyes and turned her head so she could lean on his shoulder. She could tell from his movements that they were going downstairs now. She half wanted to tell him to put her down because she didn't want to leave her mother there. Her mom wouldn't want to be left alone.

Dean sat her down on the couch once they reached the living room and he tried to move away, but she clung to him like her was her lifeline. She knew it wasn't rational; she barely knew him, but he was the one who was grounding her at the moment. She needed that.

He sat beside her, but didn't try to remove her hands, for which she was grateful.

"Are you hurt?" he asked for the third time.

"No," Alyson whispered, realized she hadn't answered when he'd asked her before. She wasn't bleeding and she wasn't unconscious, so she figured it should've been obvious.

"I don't know what to do," she said, looking at him. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Well, Sam is calling the cops. They need to know what happened."

"I don't understand. What's going on? There was a man . . . He had yellow eyes." Alyson paused. She was questioning her sanity. Maybe she had finally snapped. "You saw that, right?"

"I saw it," Dean said softly.

Okay, so she wasn't insane. Maybe she was having a nightmare instead. God, please let it be a dream. She would wake up and she'd still be in Government class; she'd only dozed off because she'd been bored and had been done with her exam. She would come home and find her mom doing one of the inane things her mom thought she had to do.

"He disappeared into thin air?"

The eyes she could explain - contacts or a trick of light. But disappearing without a trace in front of her very eyes? That was harder to explain away.

Dean didn't say anything, but she took it as conformation of her theory anyway.

"You know what it was," she said. Call it intuition, call it an educated guess, whatever, but she knew he knew.

"Yeah," he answered. "Look, we should wait to talk about this later."

Alyson nodded. She could deal with that. She probably didn't want to know anyway.  
\-----  
By the time the police arrived, Alyson had thought of every possible way to say what had happened without sounding crazy. Sam and Dean had stayed with her for two reasons. One being they didn't want her to say anything that would get them in trouble or herself thrown into the nuthouse; the second being they were worried about her. They didn't want her to be alone.

It was true that it was very rare for the brothers to stay while the police interrogated the victim, but Alyson was a teen and, as far as they knew, an only child. She hadn't mentioned a dad or any other family member. She didn't have anyone else to help her through this.

Sam, Dean, and Alyson were escorted to the den, most likely because the cops didn't want them seeing Alyson's mom – the body, they called her – being bagged by the people from the morgue. Whatever. It was a moot point now; Alyson had already seen her body. Nothing would erase that image from her mind, Dean knew. Something like that just couldn't be unseen.

"Okay, Miss. Just start from the beginning," a cop said. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and seemed like he didn't understand that this was hard for the teenage girl sitting in the chair across from him.

Alyson took a deep breath and started talking mechanically.

"I got home anywhere between three and three-fifteen. I would've gotten here sooner, but I came out of the school and my tire was flat."

"You changed it?"

"No," Alyson answered and then looked at Sam and Dean. "These two did."

"And they are?"

"They're friends," she said. "They saved my life."

"Okay. They changed your tire. Then what?"

"I took my friend, Layla, home. They followed me, just in case. The – the tires were new and one was already flat, so . . ."

Dean could tell she didn't want to finish telling the story. She didn't even look like she could.

"She invited us in," Dean said. "That's when we found her mother."

"Did one of you move the body at all?"

"No," all three of them said.

"You found your mom right away?"

"Yeah," Alyson said. "There was this guy there. He admitted that he'd killed her."

"What did he look like? Did anything stick out? Make him easier to recognize? Any tattoos? Outstanding features? Any detail could help find him."

"There's not much to tell. He had brown hair. He was white. His teeth were really straight. Perfect looking. Everything else was average."

"No tattoo?"

"None that I could see. Almost everything was covered. He was wearing a jacket."

"Do you know the color?"

"I wasn't really paying attention," she said softly.

"Miss, I get that this is hard for you, but we really need to know everything you can remember so we can find this guy."

Dean knew that even if they found the guy, he wasn't someone anyone should mess with. He couldn't say that, however, because that would just lead to more questions that no one could answer.

"Why don't you lay off? She's doing the best she can," he told the officer.

Apparently the officer hadn't realized he was being so persistent because he nodded and looked contrite.

"I just have one last question. How did you get away?"

"I told you," Alyson said. "They saved me. They scared him off, I think. I was pretty much zoned out. I don't remember anything else."

"She went into shock after she found her mom," Sam explained. "We heard her hit the floor and we went upstairs to see what had happened. She had collapsed. That guy ran right past us, but we didn't get a good look at him because we were more concerned about Alyson."

The officer in charge made sure she had a place to stay for a few days, told her not to go in her mom's room, and then he and his fellow officers saw themselves out.  
\-----  
Sam, Dean, and Alyson were now in the living room. She knew she needed to go upstairs and get her stuff together, but she didn't care. She didn't feel like moving, much less getting things to take to Layla's.

She sat down on the couch and felt the cushions on either side of her move. The two guys had sit beside her.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

Alyson looked at him, but she didn't answer. No, she was not okay. Anybody with an ounce of brains would know that.

"I have questions," she said, turning to Dean now. "I want answers."

"Okay," Dean said hesitantly.

"Who are you?"

"We already told you," Sam said. "I'm Sam and this is Dean. He's my brother."

"But you weren't just passing through."

"No," Dean answered even though it hadn't been a question.

"I didn't think so. You are so lucky I didn't tell the police. They probably would've locked you up on suspicion alone."

"You're probably right," Sam said softly. "So thank you."

"What killed my mom?" That was the million dollar question and she wanted an answer even though she knew she probably wouldn't be happy with it.

"A demon," Dean said bluntly. Sam glared at him.

"A demon?"

"Yeah."

"So . . . what I saw was real? I'm not crazy?"

"No. You're not crazy," Sam said. "I don't know if that's going to make you feel better or worse."

"How did you know it was going to be here?"

"I dreamed it was going to happen," Sam told her.

This time it was Dean who was doing the glaring. Alyson assumed that the dreams were something they didn't tell anyone.

She focused on trying to comprehend the fact that demons were real rather than that her mom was dead. It seemed easier that way. She knew it would hit her hard later but now . . . now she just wanted to focus on something else. Something that couldn't really be real. She would probably come up with a rational explanation for everything that had happened and demons would end up being monsters in fairy tales. Sam wouldn't be some psychic person who had dreamed about her mom dying.

That was it. None of this was real. She was just . . . she was just waiting to wake up now.

"So what happens now?"

"This is what we do," Dean said. "If there's any reason why your mom was targeted we'll find out what it was."

"For now, I think you should get to Layla's house. You should try to get some sleep." That was Sam again

"Do you need us to drive you?" Dean asked.

"No. If I'm driving, my mind will be occupied and I don't need to be thinking about this right now."  
\-----  
When Alyson pulled up to the curb in front of Layla's house she just sat there debating whether she should go in or not. Layla already knew about what had happened. She had called her before to make sure it was okay to stay the night. Layla's parents had said she could stay as long as she wanted.

It was still raining. Alyson watched the windshield wipers go down and come back up again over and over until she finally cut the car off. The sound of the passenger side door opening broke into her thoughts. It scared her, to say the least, when Layla sat down in the passenger seat. She hadn't even seen anybody outside, let alone anybody close enough to get in the car.

"Hey," Layla said. "I've never been in this situation before, so I really don't know what to say."

"That makes two of us," Alyson said quietly, not saying that Layla had already said the right thing just by being honest.

"Are you okay?"

"All things considered. At least I'm alive."

Alyson looked at Layla, who was looking fairly uncomfortable, and felt slightly guilty for that. She wasn't making this easy for her friend.

All of a sudden, Layla looked straight at her and said in a shaky voice, "I'm so sorry."

That little statement, so genuinely said, threw Alyson over the edge. She felt her face contort into an expression of pain, and she started sobbing.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do," she said, turning her face away from Layla. It was bad enough that she was breaking down in front of Layla; she didn't want her friend to have to watch her face as she did it.

"I'm going to have to plan her funeral and everything. That means I'm going to have to go through her things soon and I'm not ready for that. I don't even want to go back in that house."

Layla put her hand on Alyson's and squeezed gently. That made Alyson cry harder

"You know I'll help any way I can," Layla said in true best friend fashion.  
\-----  
It was two o'clock in the morning. Alyson hadn't been asleep yet; she wasn't going to sleep and she had nothing to do to keep her mind off of everything that had happened. This meant she had two choices. She could either think about everything and have another breakdown and possibly risk everyone in the house waking up, or she could sink into that numbness that threatened to engulf her.

She chose the numbness. It was easier and safer; she could handle that.

Alyson looked at Layla's sleeping form in the bed next to hers. She was snoring lightly. Any other night that would have made her giggle It would've reminded her of sleepovers they'd had where they would stay up late and then playfully argue about whether or not she snored. But not tonight.

Layla was in a deep sleep and she didn't want to wake her, so she got up and headed for the bathroom. She had to pee anyway, but that wasn't the reason she was going. She could shed a few tears in there without anyone knowing. The bathroom was in Layla's room and she had to pass by a window to get there. The window was facing the road. She saw a black Impala and immediately knew who was out there. She didn't know whether to be frustrated or relieved that they were following her.

Forgetting about her need to go to the bathroom, she quickly put on one of Layla's shirts and left her own pajama pants on. She silently left the bedroom and found her way to the front door and went outside as quietly as she could. She walked toward the Impala and saw Sam and Dean get out of the car.

"Hey," Sam said when he and Dean reached her.

Sam and Dean had been sitting outside for a while. When they'd found out she was staying with Layla and her family they had followed her just in case something else happened. They wanted to know if Alyson was going to be safe; the demon had thrown her against the wall.

"Hi. What're you guys doing here?" she asked softly.

"Making sure you're okay," Dean answered.

Alyson nodded her thanks and then looked up at the sky. It wasn't raining anymore, which was just fine with everyone involved.

"How're you holding up?" Sam asked.

"Honestly?" She paused. "I don't even know how I've gotten through these last few hours."

Alyson led the two brothers to the front porch and she sat down. Dean and Sam sat down on either side of her, putting her in the middle.

Sam put his hand on her shoulder, feeling that it was the right thing to do at the time. "Well, the important thing is that you did."

"You're stronger than you think you are," Dean said.

"Oh, I don't know about that," she said, looking down at the ground.

"No, you are." Sam squeezed her shoulder a little and then dropped his hand onto his lap. "You may not see it, but we do."

Alyson looked up at him. She saw that he was being serious and not just saying it to make her feel better. She didn't argue because she could see that he actually did believe what he was saying.

"Yeah," Dean said. "Anyone else would totally be tripping out by now. You're handling this very well."

Alyson looked at the ground before she started to speak. She found it easier to talk about it if she wasn't actually focusing on anything.

"I keep thinking that maybe I could've done something, if only I had gotten there sooner."

"Don't do that," Dean said. "It wouldn't have made any difference."

"Sure it would've," Alyson muttered, knowing that whatever had killed her mom had wanted to kill her.

"No, he's right," Sam said. "It's not your fault."

Alyson knew they were right. If she had been there, the only thing that would be different is that she would have died too. She knew it, but she didn't believe it or accept it.

"Besides, you don't have to do this alone. We're going to help you."

Alyson looked at Dean this time. "How?" she asked beseechingly. "How are you going to help me?"

Alyson's voice was so broken, so young. She was definitely showing her vulnerability now.

"We're going to figure out why your mom was targeted and make sure this thing doesn't come back for you."

"I know why the demon killed my mom," she whispered.

"Really?" Sam asked in surprise. "Why?"

"Because of me. He was after me."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. But yesterday when I saw him or it or whatever I'm supposed to call it . . . he said he was there to kill me. And he settled for my mom. I don't understand why he wanted to hurt me. I've never done anything to anyone."

"Have you ever practiced witchcraft?" Sam asked, seeming like he was trying to work something out in his mind.

"No," she replied incredulously.

"This thing tell you why it wanted you dead?"

"No. It just said it had been waiting for me."

"Well, maybe it was something your mom did. But this obviously wasn't random," Dean said.

"What about your dad?" Sam asked quietly.

"My dad has been dead for almost three years. He was never around much when he was alive. I don't know a lot about him."

Alyson took a deep breath and said. "You guys should go now. If Layla wakes up, she'll come looking for me and if she finds you two here, she'll freak."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked. "That you want us to leave?"

"Yeah. Well, no, but you need to."

They gave her their cell phone numbers and told her where they were staying and then they left.  
\-----  
The officer in charge of Alyson's mom's case showed up around noon the next day wanting to ask whatever questions he hadn't gotten around to the night before. Alyson was now going through the painful process of telling him what she knew.

"We can't find any evidence that your house was broken into at all. None of the windows were broken. The doors didn't look busted in. Now, that leads me to think that your mom must have known this guy. But you didn't recognize him?"

"No, but I only knew a few of my mom's friends."

Alyson didn't like where this was going. She didn't want to get caught in a lie, but how could she tell this police officer that the person that had killed her mother wasn't an ordinary man and hadn't had to use the door if he hadn't wanted to? The simple answer to that question was that she couldn't.

"Did your mom have any enemies?"

"Not that I know of. Mom was a good person. She helped out whenever she could."

"Did she get any threatening messages by mail or maybe even by phone in the days before she died?"

"Again, not that I know of. She wouldn't have told me if she had been. She wouldn't have wanted me to worry."

"Had she been acting any different?"

"No. She couldn't have known it was going to happen. She would've told somebody, like you."

The officer nodded and looked down at the notepad he was holding. "I'm going to ask you something and it may sound strange, but I need an answer anyway."

Alyson didn't think anything could sound strange to her now that she'd found out that demons were real, but she nodded and braced herself anyway.

"Did your mom know anyone who worked with sulfur?"

"Sulfur?" Okay, that was strange. "Why?"

"We found some in the living room near the front door and there was some in the bedroom where you found your mother."

"Oh. I'm not sure. It's possible, but I don't know."

He kept asking questions for the next hour. When he was finally done asking questions, he left. His asking things about her mom's friends, made Alyson realize that she had yet to notify anybody about what had happened.

If they watched the news, chances were they already knew.

Layla, who had been sitting beside her the whole time, put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently but firmly. Alyson leaned her head onto her shoulder and tried to reign herself in. Layla had seen her break down the night before; she didn't need to see it again.

Alyson took a deep breath and said, "You know what? I'm gonna go. I'm gonna ride around for a while and clear my head."

"Well, let me come with you," Layla suggested.

Alyson stood up and stretched. "No, I wanna be by myself for a while. I need to think things through. Make them make sense in my head. I'll be back later."

Layla nodded as Alyson walked toward the door; she didn't seem happy about letting Alyson go alone. Alyson walked to her car, got in, and turned on the radio. She wasn't really listening, but she needed the noise to block out her thoughts.  
\-----  
Sam and Dean were doing research on Alyson's family, but there wasn't much to tell. Alyson's mom had moved to California when she was about eighteen and had gotten married pretty soon after. There wasn't much to say about the mom. Yes, the woman had gone to social events, had even helped with them, but other than that, there was no record of her. There was nothing from her younger years; it was like someone had wanted her to disappear for a while only to show up years later.

That was definitely weird and they would try to find out why that was.

"So, why do you think the demon wants Alyson dead?" Sam said.

"Because it's a demon?" Dean guessed. Demons killed people, who knew why. Dean thought that sometimes demons just killed to be killing; it gave them something to do and they didn't need a reason.

"Do you think the demon will try again? I mean, she's staying with another family now and if this demon wants her dead, he'll attack whoever he has to to get to her."  
\-----  
Alyson ended up at the motel Sam and Dean had told her they were staying. She hadn't actually set out to go there, but she guessed subconsciously she knew she wanted to talk to them. They were only ones she could be candid with even though she still thought they were a little crazy; she thought she was a little crazy, too, for going along with what they were saying about demons and such.

Alyson saw the Impala in the parking lot. There was a parking space right beside Dean's car, so she pulled in and shut her car off. She sat there for a few minutes wondering whether it was okay for her to just show up like this. She knew they were the only ones who could even begin to understand what she was going through. She knew she could trust them, that they were the good guys. She knew that, if they were telling the truth, they were the only ones who could help her.

She took her keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. She went to the room number they had given her and knocked on the door. Sam was the one who answered. He looked surprised to see her, but he said, "Hi," anyway.

"May I come in?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah, of course." Sam moved out of her way so she could step inside the room.

It was your standard motel room with two beds, a nightstand, a table, two chairs, and a bathroom. It was the kind of room her mom would've hated with a fiery passion, but she wasn't going to think of her mom. That would've made her breakdown in front of two guys who were practically strangers.

Alyson saw Dean sitting at the table with a laptop computer in front of him.

"Did you find anything yet?"

"No," Dean said. "But you shouldn't be getting involved with this."

She laughed bitterly. She wished she could turn her back on this. "It's a little late, don't you think? I mean, this thing killed my mom and it wants to kill me. And I'm not a coward. I won't be sitting on the sidelines in this."

Sam and Dean looked at each other and then Sam said, "Okay. You can help."

"I wasn't asking," she said, looking at Sam, who was taking a seat on the bed closest to the table.

"We have to ask you a few questions," Dean said. "And they're going to sound a little strange."

That was the second time someone had told her that that day. The first time she hadn't thought anything would sound strange, but coming from these two, she wasn't so sure.

"Okay."

Sam took a deep breath, like he was preparing to ask her something he didn't really want to.

"Do you have any unexplained abilities?"

"What?" Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn't been that.

"You know, like telekinesis or psychic dreams. Something like that."

"No." Alyson wanted to laugh at the conversation they were having and if the situation had been different she probably would have, but the situation wasn't different and so she didn't. She didn't tell them about her ability to fight well because something told her that fighting wouldn't help her if she was up against someone who could disappear as fast as they could blink.

"Anyway, about the ability thing –" Alyson looked at both Sam and Dean. Dean was tense, like he knew what she was about to say. "The dreams, you have them."

"You remember that, huh?" He looked like he wished she didn't.

"I would never tell anyone. Not that they would believe me, anyway, but I would never tell anyone."

That seemed to calm Dean down at least a little bit, so she assumed she had said the right thing.  
\-----  
A few hours later, Alyson was still at the motel. She didn't want to leave. She didn't know anyone else she could talk to. No one else would believe her, they would just think she was traumatized or crazy or, quite possibly, both. She was surprised that Layla hadn't called to check on her, though, but she hadn't heard her phone got off so she assumed Layla just believed that she wanted to be left alone.

"You know, if someone had told me a week ago that demons exist, I probably would've laughed in their face."

Sam smiled at her a little bit, but mostly he looked at her with sympathy. It wasn't because her mom was dead. In Sam's eyes, she could see that he was sorry that she had gotten sucked into his world. Alyson looked at Dean, who was no longer on the laptop. His expression was the same as Sam's although Dean hadn't smiled at all. It was like Dean knew all to well what losing a parent felt like.

"So how long have you known about this stuff?"

"Since we were kids," Dean answered.

"Something attacked our mom," Sam said softly. "We think it was the same thing that attacked yours."

"Your mom died?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. "Our dad has been hunting it ever since. When we got old enough we started hunting it too."

"Oh." Alyson was lost for words. She couldn't imagine growing up like that. She couldn't imagine how someone younger than herself could wrap their mind around the concept of demons. She wasn't sure she could wrap her mind around the concept yet.

A terrible thought suddenly occurred to her. This demon was after her, but that didn't mean it wouldn't kill someone else to get to her. Because apparently it would.

"Do you think this thing will try again soon? To kill me, I mean?"

"I think it depends on whether or not you take top priority," Dean said honestly.

Dean didn't seem sure about letting her in on everything, but she needed something else to focus on, something she could actually work with, something that would keep her from focusing on the real problem, which was that her mom was dead.

"Is it safe to stay with Layla with this thing after me?"

"Would they let you stay with anyone else?"

"No. Probably not. But if they get hurt, it's on my head."

"It wouldn't be your fault," Dean said. "You didn't ask for this to happen."

The three of them sat in silence for a while until a thought popped into her head.

"The police said they found sulfur at the crime scene. At my house. It was near the front door and upstairs. Was that from the demon?"

"Yes. That's a tell-tale clue that a demon has been in a house."

It made sense if one thought about it. Demons came from hell and hell supposedly had sulfur-like substances floating around.

"Hm. So you're following this thing?"

"It's not as simple as that," Dean said.

"See, remember that dream I told you about?" Sam didn't wait for her to answer. "When I have a dream like that, it's always connected to that demon, or it's about someone who's connected to that demon. I don't know why, but that's the way it is."

"Why did you assume I had an ability? You're the one who's connected to it."

"I had a dream a while back about this guy. We found out he was telekinetic; he was connected to this demon too."

"How?"

"His mom died when he was a baby," Dean said. "The demon killed her."

"Something's weird about this though," Sam said.

"You mean something's not?" Everything Alyson had learned over the last thirty-eight hours had been weird."

Dean smiled at that. "Actually, this is the story of our lives. Weirdness abounds."

Alyson shuddered. "That's scary." She realized she had said that out loud and smiled sheepishly at them. "No offense."

"None taken."

"Anyway," Sam interrupted, "the way your mom died, it doesn't fit the pattern."

"Pattern?" she asked. "You mean a M.O."

"Yeah. When this thing kills someone, it usually pins them to the ceiling and burns them. There's usually blood coming from the stomach, also."

"Maybe something stopped it," Dean suggested.

"What could stop it? Your guns didn't work."

Alyson bit her lip, thinking about what could've happened. Suddenly it hit her.

"That demon expected me to be there. It obviously knew what was going on around me because it got there around the time I would've gotten there if I hadn't had that flat tire."

Sam and Dean moved around – squirmed, even – when she said that.

"Did you guys have something to do with that?"

"No," Dean said, trying to look innocent. It wasn't working, but she let it slide for now. Bigger fish to fry and all that.

"Anyway, on with my theory. That demon was waiting for me. If the house had been on fire, he wouldn't have been able to get to me. He probably didn't know you two would be there."

"That's the theory I'd go with," Sam said.

Alyson looked at her watch. It was nearing two o'clock. She knew she should leave and head back to Layla's house, but she didn't want to. She wanted to keep away from Layla and her family just to be on the safe side, but she really had nowhere else to go.

"I guess I better go." She stood and looked around for her pocketbook. It wasn't in the room, which meant it was still in the car. As was her cell phone. Layla had probably tried calling and was freaking out by now because Alyson hadn't been answering. She went towards the door, but turned back around to face the two brothers.

"I'll call you before I go back to my house. I'll probably have clearance by tomorrow night. I'll go while everyone is at graduation"

Dean nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

Alyson turned back towards the door, opened it, and said bye before stepping outside.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyson goes back to her house, encounters the demon again, and finds out a little more about her mom. She has to make a life-altering decision regarding her future.

Sunday night came sooner than Alyson would've liked. It should've been a happy time for her, but instead it was a time of grief. She should've been planning on celebrating with her friends and family. Instead she had to go through her mom's things so she could begin planning for her funeral.

Her funeral? Alyson thought. This isn't happening.

That was how she felt. She didn't know how to deal with any of the things that had happened, so she had detached herself from the world around her. She had walked around for the past few days hardly feeling anything. It hurt less that way.

"Are you sure you'll be okay here by yourself?" Layla's voice cut through her thoughts. "Because we can stay here with you."

"No," she said. "You shouldn't miss your graduation because of me. I'll be fine."

Layla was wearing a white gown that flowed down to the middle of her calves, and white high-heeled sandals completed the look.

"You look good."

Alyson smiled sadly. She wished it could've been her in the white gown, but she had decided not to go to graduation the moment she had accepted her mom was really gone. She didn't want to go because her mom couldn't go – and her mom should've been able to go. Every parent should have the chance to see their children graduate.

"I better go then," Layla said, but she didn't move.

"Yeah," Alyson agreed.

"I'll bring your diploma to you."

Twenty minutes later, Alyson pulled into the driveway in front of her house. She didn't want to go in alone, but she hadn't called Sam and Dean like she was supposed to have. She knew she had to deal with this herself.

Taking a deep breath, she got out of her car and walked up to the front door, pausing for a minute before going in. She was surprised to see that the living room looked relatively normal. She had thought it would have been messier with the police having gone through it and all.

Alyson closed her eyes, trying to make herself relax, but quickly reopened them when the image of her mom came into her mind.

She didn't know where to start. They didn't have a basement; they didn't use the attic; the den was more of an entertainment room than a place you would keep important papers. The only place left was her mom's room, because she knew the guest room didn't have anything in it and neither did her room.

She made her way to her mom's room. The door was open, so she just walked in. She avoided the spot she had found her mom and went straight to the closet to see what she could find.

There was a shoebox on the floor that she picked up and put on the bed. When she opened it, she found that it was just a bunch of old pictures. The picture on top was of her mom standing beside a blond woman. They were smiling brightly. She assumed they were eighteen or nineteen. According to the clothes the two girls were wearing, it was the late 1960s or early '70s.

She put the picture back in the box, making a mental note to go through them later. She looked around the room and saw a filing cabinet. She'd known it was there and didn't know why she hadn't thought to look there first. She went towards it, but stopped when she saw the bloodstain on the carpet. Her mind flashed back to the image of her mom lying there with blood seeping from her neck. Her eyes welled up with tears that she wanted to ignore, but she knew she couldn't. Not any longer.

She backed up a few steps so she could sit on the bed, but she didn't feel comfortable there so she chose the floor instead. She couldn't look away from the bloodstain and she felt sadness come over her, suffocating her. It felt like four walls of grief were closing in on her.

She scooted closer to the bloodstain on the carpet. Being near it made her feel closer to her mom in a weird, twisted way. She could almost hear her mom saying that what she was feeling was normal and that she would heal in time. Guilt joined sadness because she felt it should've been her instead of her mom who had died. The demon had been after her, not her mom.

"I'm so sorry, Mom. You shouldn't have died because of me." She felt the tears spill over onto her cheeks and they didn't seem like they were going to stop flowing any time soon. She'd ignored the pain for too long and it was coming back to haunt her.

She put her hand on the stain and was surprised to find that it wasn't completely dry yet. Her hand had blood on it now. She didn't ignore the irony of it – her mom was dead because of her.

A sort of golden light filled the room and then her mom's voice came from above her. "I would have died protecting you. I'm your mother. It's not your fault."

Alyson looked up and, sure enough, her mom was there. Or the spirit of her mom, anyway. She had lost it, she was sure, but she talked to her anyway.

"But it is. It is my fault. That thing was after me."

Then came the anger. Anger for what had happened to her and her mom. She felt like punching something, but she couldn't find the will to pick herself up off the floor. The anger didn't last long, but the sadness and guilt stayed, along with worry about what was going to happen next, and fear about what was going to happen to her.

She looked at her mom. She wanted to hug the apparition in front of her, but with her luck she'd probably just go through her mother anyway. She settled for talking instead.

"How can I get through this?"

Her mom sat down beside her. If she was a ghost, she wasn't cold like Alyson had read they would be. She was warm.

"I taught you all you need to know about what to do next."

"How long am I going to feel like this?" She wanted the numbness to come back. That, she could deal with because it didn't hurt. "How long is this going to hurt?"

"You already know the answer to that question. It will ease with time. But the reminder will always be there. This wasn't meant to be easy, sweetie."

That didn't help Alyson. It just made her cry harder because now she felt guilty for shutting herself down and not letting herself feel this.

"Will things ever get back to normal?" She didn't get an answer, probably because she already knew it. Things would never be normal again. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do without you here. Where do I go? What do I do?"

"That's for you to decide. A lot of things are going to happen to you in the future. Remember not to lose yourself."

A lot of things were going to happen to her in the future? Obviously – she was only seventeen. And what did her mom mean, she shouldn't lose herself? Alyson didn't really know who she was, she wasn't old enough to figure that out.

"Are you actually here?" Alyson looked at her mom with new eyes, wondering if she was real.

Her mother nodded and turned to her so she could bring her hand up to her face. It didn't go through Alyson like she'd thought it would. It was solid; it made her feel safe and warm . . . And oh yeah, she had definitely lost it. She was talking to the spirit of her mom, who may or may not actually be there. She was taking comfort from her.

"I love you. I hope you knew that." Alyson grabbed the hand that was on her face and didn't let go. "I shouldn't be doing this yet. I'm only seventeen. I shouldn't be burying my mom."

She hated how hard this was and how pointless death was. But her mom was right – it wasn't supposed to be easy.

Her mom gently pulled her hand from Alyson's and said, "I have to go now. I just didn't want to cross over until I knew you were okay – and you will be okay."

"I won't be seeing you again?"

Her mom shook her head and then, in another flash of golden light, she was gone.

Alyson didn't know how long she sat there on the floor crying, but it had to have been for at least an hour. That was what it felt like, anyway. Her body was drained, emotionally exhausted, and her eyes were dry – it was like she had no more tears to cry.

She made herself get up. She went to sit on the bed and accidentally knocked the box of pictures off of it. Alyson groaned inwardly because the top of the shoebox had come off and the pictures had spilled out. She slipped back down on the floor to pick them up, but stopped when she felt an evil presence in the room with her. She was chilled to the bone and she wasn't ashamed to admit it. She still stood up to face it, taking in her surroundings on the way up.

The demon that had killed her mother was between her and the bedroom door, which was the only way out of the room, unless she counted jumping out of the window, which she didn't. There weren't many weapons in the bedroom and the ones that were there weren't within reaching distance.

"Looks like Sam and Dean aren't here to protect you this time."

The reality of that statement hit her with full force. She suddenly couldn't breathe and her head felt dizzy, like it was spinning at eighty miles an hour. She knew she was going to die. She just knew it.

She was thrown up against the wall, just like the last time they'd been there. The back of her head made contact with the wall and she tried to fight the darkness that was threatening to take over. She felt herself rising up the wall toward the ceiling; she was still dizzy, but she was more alert than she had been a second ago.

She found herself looking down from the ceiling at the room. A severe pain sparked in her abdomen. It was a pain so fierce it took what was left of her breath away. It felt like hot pokers were burning her from the inside out and they had cut their way through.

As quickly as the pain came, however, it vanished. She didn't know how it had happened, but she was thankful for it. When she got her breath back she screamed as loud as she could. She screamed until there was no air left in her lungs.

Outside, Sam and Dean were sitting in the Impala waiting for Alyson to come back outside. They were a little angry at her for not letting them know she was coming to the house – she was supposed to have called first. But they also knew she had needed time to herself in the house to help jump-start the healing process.

Everything was going great until the radio started going all static-y. Something supernatural was around. Three guesses as to what. It didn't take them more than a few seconds to race to the front porch when they heard a very feminine scream fill the night air.

Dean kicked the door in and Sam raced past him to the stairs. Dean wasn't far behind him.

"Alyson, where are you?" Dean yelled.

"Help!" came the answering scream.

They heard something fall that made a huge thump. Once inside the room the scream had come from – the same room Alyson had been attacked in before – Dean saw what had made the noise. Alyson had apparently been pinned to the ceiling, and they were too late. There was blood on the front of her shirt where the demon had done whatever he'd done.

Sam put a hand on her shoulder and Alyson shrugged it off. Dean didn't blame her; he could see the panic in her eyes.

"Hey, it's okay. It's me, Sam. Are you okay?" He was speaking softly, soothingly.

Alyson moved away from him and got up on her knees looking frantically around the room, making sure the demon wasn't back.

"I'm okay," she said.

"No, you're not. You're bleeding," Dean said, wondering why Alyson was able to move around so well. "You need to go to the hospital."

The thing was that Alyson did seem okay – she was obviously in shock.

"No, I'm fine." She felt her stomach, seeming amazed that she was fine. "I don't have a scratch on me."

It was true. She lifted her shirt up a little so he and Sam could see. There was a lot of blood, but there wasn't a wound. The blood was covering a smooth, flat stomach.

"I don't know how that's possible, but I'm fine."

Sam and Dean tried to take that in, but they didn't say anything about it. This was a whole new level of weird, and it surprised them.

"What happened? You were supposed to call us," Dean said. He wanted to scold her, but he didn't. She had just been through something traumatic. Not to mention, she didn't have to listen to him or Sam. They didn't know her that well, and she didn't know them either.

"I needed to be alone. How did you know I was here?"

"Well, you weren't at Layla's. We just figured this was where you would be. How long have you been here?" Sam asked. Her car had already been there when they had arrived.

"Over an hour. That demon just showed up. Next thing I knew, I was pinned to the ceiling and my stomach . . ." she trailed off.

"It was cut," Dean finished for her.

"Yeah. It was the worst pain I've ever felt. It didn't last long, but I just thought I was going into shock."

"Then you just healed?" Dean asked skeptically. What was she, to be able to do that?

"I guess."

She was a whole new level of weirdness, but she wasn't dead and she wasn't hurting anymore so Dean guessed that he was okay with that - as long as she wasn't evil.

After Alyson changed her bloody shirt, she and Dean began going through the filing cabinet in her mom's room. They hadn't found anything interesting yet, and both stopped when Sam said, "Hey, look at this."

"Find anything?" Dean asked, hopefully.

"It isn't what we were looking for, but . . . yeah."

Sam had been going through the pictures Alyson had knocked off the bed and she didn't know what Sam had found, but he had a shocked expression on his face.

"What is it?" Alyson asked hesitantly.

Sam didn't answer. He just picked up a few pictures and handed them to Dean, who looked at them and then seemed confused and also shocked.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked with impatience in her voice. They were only looking at pictures, so what was the big deal?

Dean handed her the pictures he was holding. "Do you know who this is?" He pointed to one of the people in the picture. The picture that was on top was the one she had been looking at earlier.

She turned the picture over to see if there was a name, but there wasn't. She shrugged. "No. I mean, that's my mom. I don't know who she's with." She could tell by their expressions that they weren't telling her something. "But you do."

"Yeah," Sam answered. "That's our mom."

"Is your mom from Lawrence, Kansas?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Mom's parents died there."

"When was this?" Sam asked.

"My grandfather died when I was ten. He had a heart attack. Grandmother died about two months after that. I think without him around she just gave up."

"How did she die?"

"I don't know. In her sleep, I think. I know they found her in her bed. That doesn't sound demonic, right?" For all she knew, it could have been.

"No, it doesn't." Sam answered.

"My mom knew your mom," she said, letting it sink in. "And by looking at this picture, I would say they were pretty good friends."

She looked down at the picture again and then handed it back to Dean. She didn't know what to make of this and by the two guys expressions, neither did they. She decided to give them a few minutes alone. She needed to get her clothes out of the bathtub anyway – that was where she had left her shirt when she'd pulled it off.

"Um . . . I'll be back. I'm gonna throw my shirt in the wash – or the trash."

They both nodded and gave her grateful smiles before she went out of the room.

She didn't know what this new revelation meant. From what she knew, her mom had been normal. Maybe Alyson had done something wrong. She had made herself a target somehow; she just wished she knew the reason. Not to mention the fact that Sam and Dean's mom had known hers. Possibly a coincidence, but probably not.

Then there was the healing thing. She didn't know where that had come from – it had never happened to her before.

She went to the bathroom in the hallway and shut the door. She lifted up her shirt and looked at her stomach. There wasn't any evidence that she'd ever been hurt at all. She wasn't even sore and she didn't have a scar.

She waited a few minutes before even thinking about picking up the shirt in the tub. The brothers probably needed as much time to comprehend this new information as she did.

"What does this mean, Dean?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Dean answered.

If Alyson's mom had known their mother, maybe Alyson was connected to his family in some way. And of course since she was a girl, she probably wasn't meant to last long. Most women connected to their family didn't live to a ripe old age. His mom hadn't, Sam's girlfriend hadn't. It was one of the reasons Dean didn't let a lot of women close to him.

"You know what this means, right?" Dean asked Sam.

"What?"

"She's officially our responsibility, Sam. We have to watch out for her somehow."

Dean didn't believe in fate, but darned if he didn't think it was weird that Sam had had a dream about this particular girl at this particular time. It was almost like something had brought them together for a reason. If he'd believed in a higher power, he probably would've chalked it up to some god trying to protect the girl.

Dean heard the clicking of a door and thought it had come from downstairs, but he knew both Sam and Alyson were upstairs with him. So who had come in the house? He walked out to the hallway and saw Alyson come out of the bathroom.

"You heard that too?" she whispered.

"Yeah," Dean said. He put a finger to his lips and he guessed she got the message because she nodded and didn't speak again.

"Alyson, are you up there?"

Alyson looked at him and, hesitantly, Dean gave her the go-ahead to speak again.

"I'm up here, Layla." Then to Dean, "Let me do the talking?"

Dean nodded.

Alyson heard Layla coming up the stairs. "Mom dropped me off here. We went home and you weren't there so I got worried." She finally appeared at the top of the staircase. She stopped for a second when she spotted the two men. "I knew that car out front looked familiar. What are you guys doing here?"

Confusion was written all over Layla's face, so Alyson tried to explain. "These two are witnesses. They aren't supposed to leave town yet."

"Witnesses? They came inside with you?"

"Yeah. I invited them in and they saw what I saw."

"You didn't tell me that," Layla said, sounding hurt.

"Oh. Well, it didn't seem important."

Layla smiled a bit and nodded. "You're right. But that still doesn't explain why they're here with you now."

"I called them," Alyson said quickly and it didn't sound natural to her ears, but she hoped Layla bought it.

"You called them?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to go through all this stuff by myself, and with you and the rest of my friends being at graduation, they were the first people that came to mind."

Layla looked irritated. "I told you I didn't have to go. I would've come here with you."

"I know," Alyson said, trying to calm her friend down. "But I told you that you shouldn't have to miss graduation because of me. I mean, graduation is one of the most important things that happen in a student's life."

"Let's get to work then," Layla said, walking past Alyson and into the bedroom.

"Wait!" Alyson said with panic in her voice. "You don't want to go in there."

She was too late. Layla had a hand to her mouth like she was trying to keep from vomiting.

"Is that where you found your mom?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen that."

"It's okay. I'm okay," Layla said, taking her hand away from her mouth. "It just surprised me, that's all."

With that, the four of them started working.

Two hours later, they found a folder with proof of life insurance. It was a twenty-five thousand dollar policy, which Alyson was grateful for. She didn't know what she would've done if she hadn't found it.

The folder also contained papers stating that her mom had a plot at a local graveyard.

"Alyson, I found something," she heard Layla said.

"What is it?"

Alyson turned to look at her. Layla was holding a letter-sized envelope.

"It's got your name on it," Layla said, handing it to her.

"That's my mom's handwriting." Alyson looked around the room. "Where did you find this?"

"In a chest in the closet. It was marked private. I figured it was something important."

Alyson nodded and then looked at the other three that were in the room. "I'm gonna go read this. I'll be back in a minute."

The other three nodded as she walked out the door and turned to go to her room. When she got there she sat on her bed, opened the envelope in her hand, and pulled out the letter. It was folded three ways so she unfolded it and started reading.

Dear Alyson,

If you're reading this, then either you were snooping in my things or I'm dead. The realist in me believes the latter of the two. I don't know how old you are now, but as I'm writing this you're six years old. If I'm dead, you're probably having a hard time understanding what's going on. I can't imagine the pain you're going through.

If I'm gone, there are things you need to know about yourself that I couldn't bring myself to tell you out loud. If you're reading this now, I guess I never did tell you because if I had I would've destroyed this letter.

When you were born, an old priest visited me after I came home from the hospital with you. He told me you were precious to the world. I thought he was just being religious – every one of God's children is special and all that. But then he said you were part of some ancient prophecy. He didn't tell me much after that because I asked him to leave. He did get one last thing out, though. You're supposed to be a Warrior for the Light. I don't really know what that means because I didn't let him explain. I just thought you should know, on the off chance that it might be true. If it is true, you'll know. The priest said you'll be able to do amazing things. He also said you'd be in danger if that information fell into the wrong hands.

I didn't tell anyone about that visit and it's up to you whether you want other people to know. The only thing left to say is that I love you and I'm sorry I won't be there to see the strong beautiful woman you'll turn out to be.

Love,  
Mom

Alyson sat there for a few minutes trying to comprehend everything. She couldn't. Her mom had known that she might be different and she hadn't told her. Alyson didn't blame her; she wouldn't have said anything either.

She knew she had to tell Sam and Dean. Maybe they knew what being a Warrior for the Light meant, because she sure didn't. She also knew she couldn't tell them anything that night because Layla was there, so she settled for just going back to the other room so she wouldn't have to be alone.

Alyson set the funeral for two days later. A lawyer had come up to her afterwards and had said her mom had hired him because she had written a will, which surprised her. Her mom hadn't been that old and she'd been healthy. She shouldn't have had any reason to write a will.

Alyson invited the lawyer back to her house and she was now sitting in her living room with him.

"What is this about?"

"Your mom left you everything, which means your mom's money now belongs to you."

Technically, it was her dad's money. His parents had been really well off. Actually, extremely rich would have described them better. When they had died, they'd left all their money to him. In turn, he'd left what was left to her mom, and now she'd left it to Alyson.

"She had close to seven hundred thousand dollars in the bank. The money is in separate accounts, of course. The house is also to be signed over to you."

"Do you need me to sign anything?"

"I don't. No. But I'm going to have to help you get the account changed over to your name. The house needs to be changed over too."

"How do I sell the house?"

"Sell it?"

"Yes. I don't want to live here." She was pretty sure she was looking at him like he was stupid, but that was kind of how she felt. "Too many bad memories."

"Oh." He sounded like he should have realized that and now that she had said something he was ashamed that he'd missed something so obvious.

"Well, legally you can't since you're not an adult, but you can hire me to do it for you. I would get twenty percent of what you receive, but the rest would go to you after it's sold."

"Okay. Let's do that."

"I'm going to have to get someone in here to tell us how much it's worth. The carpet in the upstairs bedroom is going to have to be replaced first, though. I'm also going to have to type up a contract for you to sign about selling the house."

"Well, what if I'm not here when you sell it? Like if I decide to move or something?" She couldn't stay in this house, that was for sure.

"We can put it into an account. You'll just have to leave me a number where I can reach you."

About twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door. The lawyer was still there so she just excused herself, or tried to anyway.

"Actually, we're pretty much done here."

"Oh, okay. Well, I'll walk you out then."

They walked to the front door and she opened the door to see who was there. Not surprising, it was Sam and Dean. What surprised her was that they had knocked.

"Hey," they said.

"Hi. Come in." She moved so they could come through the doorway. They were looking at the man standing behind her, so she introduced them. "This is my mom's lawyer. We were just going through some things. He was getting ready to go."

"Yes, I was," he said. He looked at her and smiled politely. "You'll need to come by my office sometime in the very near future to sign that contract we talked about.

"Okay," she said. She shook the lawyer's hand and then closed the door after we walked out.

"So . . . what are you guys doing here?"

"We were wondering what you were planning on doing," Sam said.

She thought that was a strange question, but she didn't say anything about it. She settled for asking a question of her own.

"You couldn't have called to ask me that?"

"Well, no. This isn't a conversation you have over the phone," Dean said.

"Okay." Alyson was intrigued. "What is it?"

"We need you to keep an open mind when we ask you this, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Maybe we should sit down," Dean said, leading her to the couch.

"What's wrong?" Intrigue was quickly turning into concern and panic. "Did something happen?"

"No," Sam said reassuringly, and it helped a little. "We were just wondering if you'd want to come with us on the road."

"What?" That thought had honestly never occurred to her, but now that Sam had brought it up, it seemed obvious.

Dean grabbed her upper arm to get her attention. She looked at him, grabbing his arm in the same place he was grabbing hers.

"As long as this thing is after you, you're in danger."

She nodded. "I know that."

"And we can't stay here for much longer," Sam said. "The only way we can look out for you is if you come with us."

"To be honest," she started. "I was thinking about getting away from here for a while."

"Well, we're going to be away from here, so that should work out," Dean said, grinning. He loosened his grip on her arm, but didn't remove it. She didn't mind. In fact, she found it comforting. She didn't remove her hand from his arm either and he didn't complain.

"If I were to say yes, when would we be leaving?"

"Whenever you get done doing whatever you need to do with that lawyer."

"Oh." She took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. "Look, I don't really have a choice. Do I? I mean, if I stay here I would put everyone I love in danger. At least you guys know how to handle stuff like this. So I guess the answer is yes."

They looked appeased by her answer.

Dean was using his thumb to rub her arm soothingly, which she normally wouldn't allow. She barely knew this guy, but she needed to be soothed. From the second she had even contemplated going with them, her life had changed.

So, yes, she needed to be soothed.


	4. Chapter Four

Alyson was at her house getting her things together. Sam and Dean had told her that she couldn't bring a lot, which wasn't a problem because everything in the house brought back memories. She had only one bag and it was filled with clothes and a few pictures of her mom and of her own friends. The clothes she was bringing were all practical like jeans and T-shirts, and the pictures were from the shoebox she'd found in her mom's closet, except for the ones of her friends - they were from her phone mostly.

Alyson had told Layla that if she had wanted anything from the house she could take it, and the things she didn't want Alyson would give to Goodwill or some kind of charity. She would do the same to her mom's clothes and the rest of her belongings. The furniture would be sold with the house, which would up the price a little, but she didn't care about that.

She was going to bring along her laptop and her Ipod. The Ipod was Sam's idea; he had said that all Dean listened to was classic rock and, while she liked classic rock, it wasn't the only music she listened to. Sometimes she needed music that helped her chill, not music that made her want to bang her head.

It was going on eight o'clock at night now and she had had a pretty full day. She had gone to the lawyer's office to get the house situation sorted out, and then she had gone to Layla's house. They had talked for over an hour and Alyson had ended up signing her car over to Layla. They had gone to the DMV to do that. Alyson had then told Layla that she was going to leave for a while and she didn't know when or if she would be back. Layla had made a fuss about her being alone and she had told Layla that she wouldn't be. There had been questions about who she was going to be with, so Alyson had told her part of the truth: That she was going with Sam and Dean because they were the only ones who could protect her. She had told Layla not to tell anyone; Alyson knew she wouldn't. Ever.

Layla had wanted to be there to see Alyson off, but Alyson knew that would just make it harder to leave, so she had told Layla not to come. She had given Layla the house key and had told her what she wanted her to do with the things in the house.

Sam and Dean were supposed to be picking her up at eight-thirty and she was getting nervous. She had made the decision to go with them because she had known it was the only thing she could do. That didn't mean it wasn't a hard decision to make, and it didn't mean she wasn't going to miss everyone.

The sound of her cell phone ringing brought her out of her thoughts. It startled her, even, She pulled it out of her pants pocket, flipped it open, and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Dean."

"Oh. Hi."

"We're outside. We didn't know if you wanted us to wait out here or to come in."

"You can come in. I'm upstairs in my room."

"We'll be right there."  
\-----  
The Winchester brothers were by Alyson's side in thirty seconds. They both had something they wanted to ask her. They'd been talking about it the entire time since they'd left her at Layla's house the night before.

"What?" Alyson asked softly. Apparently, they were transparent.

"We were wondering when you were going to tell us what was in that letter your mom left you," Dean said.

"Oh. Okay. You can read it if you want to. I don't actually understand it. Maybe you will."

She handed them the letter after she got it out of her jacket, which was lying on her bed.

Things were quiet while the brothers read it. After they finished was a different story.

"So, this doesn't mean anything to you?" Sam asked.

"No. I mean, my mom never mentioned it to me."

"Well," Dean said warily. "At least we know why the demon is after you. Even if we don't know what it means."

What exactly was a Warrior for the Light? It had to be a good thing, right? And it would explain her healing thing, Dean guessed. Her mom said she'd be able to do extraordinary things, and healing was definitely extraordinary.  
\-----  
Alyson was now in the backseat of the Impala. Dean was a little . . . unnerved. He hadn't thought twice about letting Alyson come with them once he knew her mom had known his mom and that now the demon that had killed his mother was ruining Alyson's life too. But he was unnerved because he'd never really had anyone else depending on him. Well, his dad sometimes, but for the most part it had always been him and Sam, and now with Alyson with them it added a third dynamic that Dean wasn't sure was going to work out.

They had been on the road for almost three hours - taking back roads, of course.

"Wouldn't it be quicker to go on the interstate?" Alyson asked.

"There are fewer cops on back roads than there are on the interstate," Sam said. He was in the passenger seat, so he turned to look at her while he talked. "We try to avoid cops."

"Why?" She was intrigued, it seemed. "Are you in trouble or something?"

"Well," Dean began to answer., "I'm not actually supposed to be alive and if anyone saw me and recognized me, I'd probably be locked up for life."

Alyson seemed shocked, to say the least. "Why? I mean, you seem like a pretty good guy."

"We worked a case a while back with a shape shifter - it's something that can change into anyone. It hurt a girl while it looked like me. They blamed a couple of murders on me. I shot the thing and it still looked like me. So what they buried, they thought was me."

"So . . ." Alyson took a deep breath, taking what he'd said in. "You were up for murder and people think you're dead?"

"Yeah. That pretty much sums it up," Dean said.

"Okay, yea. I see how you being recognized would be a problem." Alyson sighed. "I feel like I went to sleep and then woke up in some kind of bizzaro world."

"You kinda did," Sam said, smiling slightly.

All was quiet for about a minute, but then Alyson said, "Are you going to teach me how to hunt?"

Dean was sort of against that and sort of for it. He kind of didn't see any other option, but he still didn't have to like it. Alyson hadn't been brought up in this life. In fact, her life had been pretty much the complete opposite. Her house alone was proof of the fact that she'd had a pampered life. Her room in her house had been bigger than some of the motel rooms he and Sam had shared.

"Are you sure you want to know how?" Sam asked.

"No, I'm not," she said honestly. "But I don't wanna be useless and I want to be able to defend myself."

"We'll see," Dean said. "But this job . . . it changes you."

Alyson nodded. "It doesn't change the fact that I need to know."

Right now Alyson Daniels was innocent. Dean didn't want to take that away from her. But she was right; she did need to know. She needed to be able to defend herself long enough for one of them to get to her.

He guessed he and Sam would have to take on the roll of teacher; he just hoped she was a good student, a fast learner.  
\-----  
Dean drove until they reached Coaldale, Nevada, and then he checked them into a motel. Two rooms, adjoining, at Alyson's request. Dean and his brother were reluctant to let her stay on her own; the demon could come looking for her at any time. Neither guy wanted her alone if or when that happened. Dean agreed only after she said she'd keep the door to her room open so they could keep an eye on her.

Thankfully, the night passed by uneventfully, and when they woke up the next morning they went out for breakfast.

Dean was skimming a newspaper that Sam had picked up on the way there. Dean hadn't found anything that even remotely resembled a job. He was vaguely aware of Sam talking to Alyson about John Winchester, their dad, whom he and Sam had been looking for. He and Sam had run into him a few weeks back and they had faced a shadow demon together. He and Sam had sent their father away becasue they thought he was weaker when they were with him.

"You have no idea where he is?" Alyson asked sympathetically.

"Nope," Sam said. "Sometimes he calls or sends us a text, but not very often."

"Wow, that's gotta be frustrating," she replied.

"That's definitely the word for it," Dean said, putting the newspaper aside.

Sam looked at him and then down at the newspaper. "Find anything?"

"Nah," Dean answered. "Nothing really sounds like our kind of thing."

Their waitress came out with their food. Dean's plate looked just like a pile of grease. Bacon, eggs, sausage. Sam's plate was slightly healthier, and Alyson was eating only pancakes. Halfway through Dean's meal, Alyson stopped eating hers and he got the rest of her pancakes.  
\-----  
Dean was back in the driver's seat again and Sam was back in the passenger seat. That left the backseat for Alyson. She had asked them to go through some of the more interesting cases they had worked, so Dean was in the middle of explaining what a woman in white was.

"So they stick around because their husbands cheated on them?" Alyson asked, skeptically. "That's why they kill people?"

"Not all people," Sam corrected. "Just guys who have been unfaithful."

"Why didn't she just get over it? I don't get it. i mean, someone cheats on you, you have yourself a good cry, dump him, and forget about them. You don't kill your kids, or yourself."

"I agree with you on that one," Dean said. "But ghosts and spirits . . . they don't have consciences; they have no morals. If they want revenge, they want revenge. It doesn't matter to them how they get it."

"Okay, well, if they're dead, how do you get rid of them? I mean, they have no butt to kick."

"You find their bones, salt them, and burn them. It lays the spirit to rest or whatever."

"You can repel spirits and demons with salt," Sam explained. "Or iron."

"Yeah, you know, I read that somewhere," Alyson said. "The salt thing. It's supposed to be pure, right?"

"Yeah." Dean began to wonder about Alyson then. Maybe she was more than met the eye. More than a blond-haired, brown-eyed teenager. More than the obvious was different about her. "Why were you reading stuff like that?"

"I told you before, I like learning, just not school stuff. If it was weird or unexplainable, I was into it. I just never knew it was real."

"I'm sorry you had to find out," Dean said sincerely.

When no one said anything else, Dean put a tape in the radio and turned up the volume.  
\-----  
"Okay, if you're gonna become a hunter, you're gonna need to know how to shoot a gun."

Dean had pulled off on the side of the road near one of the many fields they had been passing. He was now popping the trunk of the Impala open and lifting the cover off his weapons trunk. There were knives, guns, crosses, stakes, and other weapons that could fight off demons or ghosts. Another reason cops were bad. If they ever got pulled over and the police had to look in the trunk for any reason, they'd be in jail faster than anyone could blink.

Dean picked up the smallest gun he had and made sure it had bullets. He looked at Alyson and noticed she seemed nervous.

"You ever shot a gun before?"

"No," she replied, looking at the gun in his hand. "And something tells me it's not going to be easy to learn."

"It really depends on whether or not you're a natural," Sam said from inside the car. He had been sleeping and Dean had wanted to let him sleep for a while longer. Or at least until Dean let Alyson fire the gun.

"We're gonna go out in the field and work on your posturing. You know, how you hold the gun. You can seriously hurt yourself if you don't do it right."

Dean wasn't going to take for granted that Alyson had healed that one time. It may have been an anomaly, a one-time occurrence.

When he began walking, the girl followed him. "We won't worry about your aiming today. I just want you to get used to the feeling of the gun in your hand. Get comfortable holding and shooting it."

Dean handed her the gun and she kept it pointed at the ground like she was afraid it might go off on its own. The safety was still on, but holding the gun seemed to make her uncomfortable.

"Now before you go shootin' that thing, let me tell you somethin'. Your arm is probably going to be sore. That's why you're startin' with the smallest gun I have."

"Okay, show me how to do this."

Dean looked at her and grinned; her determination was adorable. "Leave the safety on for now; I'm gonna be in front of her for a minute."

"I wouldn't pull the trigger if you were in front of me. I wouldn't even touch the trigger."

Not that the bullet would have hit him anyway, because the gun was still pointed at the ground.

Dean stepped in front of her. "Now, when you fire a gun, it's going to jolt you. You need to be able to keep your balance. The gun you're holding won't do much; you might have to step back a little when you shoot it, but try to avoid moving at all."

"Okay," she said, letting him know he understood.

"Let me see how you think you're supposed to hold a gun."

She took a deep breath, brought it up with her right hand and aimed it somewhere Dean wasn't standing. She brought her left hand up and cupped half of her right wrist and the part of her right hand that was holding onto the gun.

"Am I doing this right?"

"Mostly." Her hands were where they should've been, but her shoulders were off. Dean got behind her and touched her left shoulder, moving it to how it should've been. "You should be fine now."

Dean stepped back and she turned to look at him.

"Can I shoot now?"

Dean looked toward the road, making sure there wasn't any oncoming traffic; there wasn't anything on the road but them. He gave her the go-ahead.

She took the safety off of the gun and her arm started to shake. Dean noticed and said, "Wait."

"What?" she didn't lower the gun.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to. Not today, anyway."

Alyson did lower her arms now.

"Look . . . this job that you and Sam have is something I'm not going to be able to help with. At all." She let out a small laugh. "I don't even know what I'm doing, and you're not going to be able to be there all the time. Neither is Sam."

She's a very brave girl, Dean thought. On the outside, he said, "Okay. I just wanted you to know that you have a choice."

Alyson smiled slightly. "Thank you."  
\-----  
Alyson stood in the field, feeling Dean's presence behind her, his words going through her mind. Did she really want to do this? No. But she didn't feel that she had a choice - no matter what Dean said. She didn't want to have to depend on Dean and Sam all the time. She wanted to be able to protect herself so the brothers wouldn't have to.

Alyson had already taken the safety off of the gun, so she steadied her arm, positioned her shoulders the way Dean had shown her, and pulled the trigger. Dean had been right; she did have to take a step back. Also, she felt like she could feel the vibration of her ear drums. That's how loud the gunshot had been.

"You okay?" Dean asked, still behind her.

"Yeah," she replied reassuringly.

"You wanna try again? You have five bullets left."

"Yeah, I do." She got in position again, only this time she placed her right foot a little bit behind her so she'd be able to stop herself from moving. The five years of martial arts was going to pay off in this profession; her training had taught her about keeping her balance within and without.

Alyson braced herself, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger again. This time only her upper body moved; she didn't have to take a step back.

"I don't see how you and Sam haven't gone deaf," she said, her ears were ringing.

"What?" Dean asked.

Alyson lowered the gun and turned toward Dean. "I said -" Dean was grinning. "Oh, it's possible you were joking."

"Maybe a little bit."

She handed the gun to Dean. "I think I'm done for the day."

"You sure?"

"Yep. You and Sam need to find a job and help save lives, remember?"

"Right," he said.

They walked back to the car in silence. Alyson thought about how her life was changing on the way.  
\-----  
About a day and a half had passed and Alyson and the Winchesters were now somewhere in Nebraska. They had checked into another room because Dean was tired and so was Sam, and Dean wouldn't let Alyson drive his car. When he'd said she couldn't, she wanted to stick her tongue out at him and pout, but she was too mature for that. So they were in a motel room. They hadn't been able to get adjoining rooms, but she didn't complain. She couldn't always have her way.

Dean hadn't wanted to leave her alone, so Sam had gone out to get food and she went to sleep. Until Dean woke her up, anyway. He said he was bored. Alyson could've smacked him in the head, but she didn't. If she had been more comfortable with Dean, had known him longer, she probably wouldn't have held back.

Alyson yawned and stretched, but didn't sit up. She was comfortable and she refused to get up. She realized Sam was still gone - maybe that was why Dean was bored. She yawned again, and Dean looked like he almost felt guilty for waking her up.

"You could've gone with Sam, you know?"

"And leave you here alone? I don't think so," Dean said, and it sounded like his full-blown protectiveness was kicking in. "Look, it's Sam's and my responsibility to keep you alive, and I intend to do it."

"So I'm just a job to you?"

Alyson didn't want to be just a job to anyone. That was part of why she wanted Sam and Dean to teach her the ropes; she'd be able to contribute.

"That's not what I meant," Dean said. "That's part of it, but we wouldn't have asked you to come if we didn't want you with us."

As Dean watched the girl - really, she was so very young - look up at him, he began to feel protectiveness wash over him. It wasn't very long ago that he was taking care of a seventeen year old Sam.

"I'm not leaving you alone."

Dean wasn't lying about part of the reason they'd brought her alone was responsibility; the other part was Alyson herself. She was a good person and didn't deserve to die at the hand of this sadistic demon.

"Because that thing's coming after me?" she asked as if she'd read his mind.

Dean nodded, and a bitter look passed over the blond's face.

"Yeah, well, with my luck, it would kill whoever was with me before it even tried to get to me." She looked away from him. "I don't want anyone else to die because of me."

Dean sat down beside her. He was decidedly uncomfortable with the way this situation was going. He did not want a sobbing girl on his hands.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, well . . . that's what Sam and I are here for. We're good at what we do."

Dean's phone vibrated then. It was on the nightstand between the beds, so he reached over and grabbed it. He had received a text. Coordinates.

"Hm."

"What?"

"Coordinates," Dean said.

"Your dad sent them?"

"Yeah, I think. He's always using unknown numbers so we can't track him."

"Oh. Well, I can look up the coordinates, if you want. I actually already know what to do with that. No learning necessary."

"A'right. I'm gonna call Sam, let him know what happened. After you find where the coordinates point to, get on the computer and find out if anything strange is going on around there."

"Shouldn't you be doing that? I mean, I might miss something."

"How else are you gonna learn? Besides, I'll go over it after you do."  
\-----  
At around eight o'clock the next morning Dean woke Alyson again. This time it wasn't because he was bored; they were getting ready to leave. They were heading to Fitchburg, Wisconsin.

Alyson got up, went to the bathroom to change into a blue sweater and jeans. Aside from brushing her hair, she did nothing to it. It was a lost cause that day, so . . . She walked out of the bathroom, grabbed her bag and made sure everything was in it, started going outside, but Dean's voice interrupted her actions.

"Whoa, where're you goin'?"

"To . . . put my stuff in the car?" she hadn't meant for her words to come out as a question.

"Wait for one of us," he said.

Alyson sighed even as a warmth settled over her at the concern Dean was showing. "Dean, it's just a few feet outside and it's broad daylight."

Sam picked up his bag and came up to her. "Best to just listen to him. He's impossible like this."

She and Sam walked out to the Impala, and Alyson willingly got in the backseat. She was going to use the car time wisely and get some more sleep.

Once Sam got situated in the passenger seat, he turned to look at her. "Does it bother you?"

"What?"

"Dean. Does him being like this bother you? He can be a little overbearing."

"Not really. It's kind of endearing, actually. I'm just not used to it. My mom was . . . irresponsible. She wasn't a bad mother. Far from it, but I took more care of her than she did of me. I'm pretty sure the bills wouldn't have been paid if I hadn't been there to remind her to do it every month."

Alyson laughed at the memory and then felt like crying because the memory of her mother's death was too fresh.

"Anyway, it feels nice having someone look out for me for a change. So yeah, the protectiveness is okay. I just don't want you two feeling like you have to walk on eggshells around me. I promise I won't break."

Sam nodded. "I'll try and remember that."  
\-----  
Alyson was being woken up again. This time it was both Sam's and Dean's faults. They were arguing and, since she was in the backseat, she couldn't tune them out.

"Will you two please shut up?" she asked, sitting up.

Dean looked at her through the rear-view mirror. "Well, look who finally decided to wake up."

"How long was I asleep?"

"Nearly four hours," Sam said, looking at his watch. "Do you always sleep this much."

Alyson didn't want to blush, but her cheeks grew warm anyway.

"I haven't had a decent night's sleep since before my mom died. I'm catching up on my rest." She sat up so she could lean her arms on the front seat and stick her head between them. "Or I'm trying to catch up, but someone keeps waking me up."

She looked pointedly at Dean, and he grinned. "It was time for you to get up anyway."

"Right." She leaned back in the seat. "So, where are we?"

"About five minutes from Fitchburg," Sam said.

"Which is where we're supposed to be," Dean said smugly.

"Well, then, I don't know why we're here."

"Yeah, your probably missed something, that's why."

"Dude," Sam began. "I ran Lexis Nexis, local police reports, newspapers - I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?"

"Yeah, I double-checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin."

"I checked them, too," Alyson said. "Got the same thing."

"Thank you," Dean said, winning that argument. "Look, Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important, Sammy."

"Well, I'm tellin' you, I looked, and all I could find was a big steaming pile of nothin'. If Dad's sending us hunting for something, I don't know what."

"Well, maybe he's gonna meet us there." Dean sounded hopeful.

"Yeah, 'cause he's been so easy to find up to this point."

"You're a real smart-ass, you know that?" He paused and then said, "Don't worry. I'm sure there's somethings in Fitchburg worth killin'."

"Yeah? What makes you so sure?" Sam was skeptical.

"Well, I'm the oldest, which means I'm always right."

"No, it doesn't," Sam scoffed.

"Yeah, it totally does."

Alyson smiled and sat back in the seat. Now the brothers weren't so much arguing as they were bantering. Alyson liked that, almost envied it, the familial bond they had. She kind of wanted that type of relationship with someone.  
\-----  
As soon as they spotted a cafe, they stopped for coffee. Dean went in to get it while Sam stayed outside with Alyson. She usually didn't drink coffee or caffeine, period, because it made her jitter, but she figured she might as well make friends with it if her sleep was going to keep getting interrupted.

She got out of the car to stretch her legs and her whole body, for that matter, and looked around. There were stores up and down the street behind her and on the other side of her was a playground. The problem was there was only one little girl playing there. She was with her mom, Alyson assumed, because there was a woman there sitting on a bench, watching the little girl.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" he said, getting out of the car. He probably needed to stretch, too. As tall as he was, he couldn't be comfortable being in the car for long periods of time.

"What time is it?"

"A little after four. Why?"

"Look at the playground," she said, and he did.

"Huh," he said, more to himself than to her. "School should be out, shouldn't it?"

"Yeah," she answered. "So, where is everybody?"

"You're right. This place should be crawling with kids right now."

Alyson decided she wanted to know what was going on and why there was only one kind on the playground, so she began to walk forward, but Sam pulled her back.

"Where're you going?"

"To talk to that girl's mom," she said. "You wanna come?"

"No," Sam said, as if he were remembering what she'd told him that morning. "I'll wait here. Just tell me what she says when you get back."

"Sir, yes, sir," she mock-saluted him, which drew a grin from him.

"Go on, Get over there."

When Alyson got to the playground she walked over to the bench and sat down next to the woman there.

"It sure is quiet out here," she said, just trying to make conversation. She watched as the little girl started climbing the monkey bars.

"Yeah, it's a shame."

"What is?" Alyson looked away from the little girl and toward the mom.

"You know, kids getting sick. It's a terrible thing."

"How many?"

The woman looked at her. "Just five or six, but it's serious - hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching."

"Wow. And nobody knows what causing it?"

The woman shook her head. "No, that's why some of the parents are on edge."

"Oh." Alyson didn't really know what to say to that, but it didn't really matter because Dean was calling her name from across the street, anyway. "Sorry, I have to go."

"Possessive boyfriend?"

Alyson almost scoffed. "Nah. More like overprotective big brother."

"Ah, well, at least he cares," the woman said.

"Yeah. Anyway, it was nice talking to you even if the topic was less than pleasant." Alyson stood up and began walking, but she stopped and turned back around. "Those kids that are sick . . . Did they have to go to a special hospital, you know, for a certain thing?"

"No," the woman said. "They're at the local hospital."

"Oh, okay." Alyson smiled slightly. "Good-bye for real this time."

Alyson walked back to Sam and Dean. Dean handed her a coffee once she reached him.

"Thank you."

"Mm-hm," he responded.

Alyson reached into her pocket to get some money to give him for the coffee, but when she tried to give it to him, he wouldn't take it.

"Dean . . ." She didn't want to be a mooch.

"Tell me what you found out and we'll call it even," he said. "Okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "There's not much to tell, though. The playground is almost empty because kids are getting sick. Hospital sick. Nobody knows what's causing it. Oh, and they're at the local hospital."  
\-----  
As soon as Sam and Dean found out about the hospital , they decided to pretend to be workers sent from the Center for Disease Control.

"You're kidding, right?" Alyson asked. She hadn't signed up for impersonating a government official. She was going to get in so much trouble.

"No," they both said.

"Well, what am I supposed to do? I'm too young. I mean, unless I'm job-shadowing or something like that."

Dean looked at her. "That might actually work. We're gonna have to get you the right type of clothes, though."

"Oh, no." That meant she'd end up wearing some sort of woman business-type suit thing. With heels. She hated high heels. they were shoes that were made in hell, she was sure. They were designed specifically to make her fall and break her butt bone or her ankle.

After Alyson had all the clothes she needed to look the part, the three ended up at the hospital.

"Dude," Sam said. "Dude, I am not using this ID."

"Why not?"

"Because it says bikini inspector on it."

Dean laughed and so did Alyson, but hers was more from being nervous than anything else. Sam and Dean were using face ID's and Sam didn't want to use the one he had.

"Don't worry," Dean was saying. "She won't look that close." He was talking about the receptionist, Alyson assumed. "She won't even ask to see it. It's all about confidence, Sam."

Dean pushed Sam toward the front desk and then grabbed Alyson's arm to pull her away with him. They stopped a few feet away from Sam.

"Hi," Sam said. "I'm Dr. Jerry Kaplan. Center for Disease Control."

"Can I see some ID?"

Dean, who was standing right beside Alyson, tried not to laugh. Sam glared at him but smiled at the receptionist. He took the ID out of his jacket and quickly showed it to her and then put it away. Alyson probably would've asked to see it again, but, thankfully, the receptionist didn't.

Sam asked the receptionist to direct him to the pediatrics ward, which she did, and then Sam turned to Dean, glaring again as he walked toward him.

"See?" Dean said. "I told you it'd work."

Sam shook his head and said quietly. "Follow me. It's upstairs." So they followed him.

As they walked down the hallway, Alyson started to feel weird. She didn't know if it was becasue she just hated hospitals or if it was something else, but she felt weird. She was having trouble breathing and she felt like her head was spinning.

She looked around and saw that Dean had fallen behind. He was looking into a room that they had passed a few seconds ago. The door was open and she didn't know what he was staring at, but she didn't really care at that point, because she was focusing on her breathing.

"Guys?" Sam called out, getting their attention. Sam must've seen the way Alyson was acting, because he looked concerned all of a sudden. "Are you okay?"

"I'm . . . I feel weird," she said.

"Weird?" Dean asked.

"Yeah . . . Like . . . I don't know. Just weird. Dizzy and like I can't breathe."

Dean looked at Sam. "Should we let her rest?"

"No," she said, refusing to hold them back. "We can go. I'm good. I just hate hospitals."

Sam nodded hesitantly and they started walking again. Dean walked beside her and she tried matching her breathing with his. Within a minute, she was feeling better.

"You good now?" Dean asked as they turned into another hallway and went upstairs.

"Yeah."

"What was that?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "The only other time that's ever happened to me is before that demon attacked me the second time."

"Hm. Were you freaking out?" Dean asked, not joking around. She must've freaked him out.

"No." She had no reason to freak out now. "I just felt . . . not right. But it had nothing to do with what we were doing. It was odd."

"You're odd," he said. Now he was joking and it made Alyson smile a little.

"That's not news to me."  
\-----  
The three found Dr. Hydecker, who was the lead doctor for the pediatrics ward, and tried talking to him.

"Well, thanks for seein' us, Dr. Hydecker," Dean said. He wasn't freaked out over Alyson's episode anymore, but he was still curious as to what had caused it.

The blond looked like she felt weird and she was controlling her breath. She was shaking and looked like she was about to hurl.

"Oh, I'm glad you guys are here," Dr. Hydecker said. "I was just about to call the CDC myself. How'd you find out anyway?"

"Oh, some GP, I forget his name, he called Atlanta, and, uh, must have beat you to the punch."

"So you say you got six cases so far?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. In five weeks." They walked toward one of the rooms. It had a window-glass thing so they could see into the room without actually going in. "At first we thought it was garden-variety bacterial pneumonia - not that newsworthy, but now . . ." the doctor trailed off.

"Now what?" Sam and Alyson asked.

"The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doin' their job. It's like their bodies are wearing out."

A nurse walked up to them. Her name-tag read Betty.

"Excuse me, Dr. Hydecker." She had a clipboard in her hand, which she handed to the doctor. He looked down at the paper on the clipboard and pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket.

"You ever see anything like this before?" Sam asked.

"Never this severe." The doctor signed whatever he was holding and gave the clipboard back to the nurse.

"The way it spreads, though - that's a new one for me."

"What d'you mean?" Sam asked.

"It works its way through families, but only the children - one sibling after another."

Dean spoke up. "Do you mind if we interview a few of the kids?"

"They're not conscious."

"None of them?" she asked.

"No," the nurse said.

"Can we, uh - can we talk to the parents?"

"If you think it'll help."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Why was you most recent admission?"

Dr. Hydecker told them about two girls - sisters - that had been admitted a couple of days earlier. Mr. Tarnower, the girls father, had agreed to talk to them, so they were now asking him questions. Dean felt bad for taking him away from his kids, but they needed all the information they could get. If they couldn't fix this, this man's girls were probably going to die, along with the rest of the kids who were sick. So, hopefully they could fix it.

"I should get back to my girls," the dad said.

"We understand that," Sam said. "And we really appreciate you talkin' to us. Now, you say Mary's the oldest?"

"Thirteen," Mr. Tarnower said, nodding.

"Okay. And she came down with it first, right? And then . . ."

"Bethany the next night."

"Within twenty-four hours?" Alyson asked.

"I guess. Look, I already went through all this with the doctor." He was being impatient, but Dean didn't' blame him; anyone would be.

"A'right, now, just a few more questions, if you don't mind." Dean was trying to calm him down. "How do you think they caught pneumonia? Were they out in the cold? Anything like that?"

"No. We think it was an open window."

"Both times?"

"The first time, I don't really remember, but the second time for sure. I know I closed it before I put Bethany to bed."

"So you think she opened it?" Sam asked.

"It's a second story window with a ledge. No one else could've."

"Thank you for your time," Sam said.

They walked away from the dad and started going toward the stairs.

"You know, this might not be anything supernatural. It might just be pneumonia," Sam said.

"Maybe. Or maybe somethin' opened that window. I don't know, man. Look, Dad sent us down here for a reason. I think we might be barkin' up the right tree."

"I'll tell you one thing," Sam said.

"What?" Dean asked.

"That guy we just talked to? I'm bettin' it'll be a while before he goes back home."

Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing look and started walking again.

"Wait, what're you talkin' about?" Alyson said. Neither of them said anything until they reached the car.

"How do you feel about breaking and entering?" Dean asked.

"That depends. Are you in any way joking?"

"No," both Sam and Dean said.

"Oh, and you expect me to come with you?"

"Yep."

"Oh. Well, sure, it sounds great. Except for the I'll-definitely-get-caught factor."

Sam smiled slightly. "You won't have to do anything. Not yet, anyway. But if you're going to learn to be a hunter, you need to know these things."

Alyson nodded after a moment's hesitation. "Well, let's go then."  
\-----  
We're going to jail, Alyson thought. Any minute the police are gonna show up and put us in handcuffs.

Alyson was standing in the middle of Bethany Tarnower's room, watching Sam and Dean do their thing. Dean was doing something with an EMF meter. Alyson knew it was supposed to be used to let them know if spirit activity was going on, but it wasn't going off at all. So, apparently, they weren't dealing with a spirit.

"You got anything over there?" Sam asked. He didn't have an EMF; he was just looking around.

"No, nothin'," Dean answered.

"Yeah, me neither." Sam moved around the room and toward the window. He made a face, so Alyson assumed he'd found something. "Hey, Dean.

"Yeah?"

Sam opened the window and both Dean and Alyson went to him.

"You were right. It's not pneumonia."

There was a black hand-print on the window ledge. It was the longest hand-print Alyson had ever seen. It clearly wasn't human.

"What leaves a hand-print like that?" Sam asked.

Alyson looked at Dean for the answer, but he was staring at the hand-print intently like he'd seen it before.

"Dean?" Alyson put her hand on his upper arm to get his attention.

"Huh? What?"

"What leaves a hand-print like that?" Sam repeated.

This time Dean did answer.

"A shtriga. I know why Dad sent us here. He's found this thing before."

Sam looked confused, so Alyson didn't feel bad for not knowing either.

"He wants us to finish the job."


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyson and Dean banter. Alyson and Sam bond. Dean embarrasses Alyson, but it's okay. Alyson learns more about being a hunter and proves to be quite the research assistant.

"So what's a shtriga?" Sam asked as they got in the car. They had just left the Tarnowers house and were now in search of a hotel to stay the night.

"It's kind of like a witch, I think," Dean answered. "I don't know much about 'em."

"Well, I've never heard of it, and it's not in Dad's journal."

"Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about sixteen or seventeen years ago. You were there. You don't remember?"

Sam shook his head. He would've been only about five or six if Dean had the time line right, and Dean would've only been about ten.

"I guess he caught wind that the thing is in Fitchburg now and he kicked us the coordinates."

"So wait," Sam started. "This . . ."

"Shtriga," Dean supplied.

"Right. You think it's the same one Dad hunted before?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?"

John Winchester was not known for giving up on a hunt. He had been on the same hunt for the last twenty-two years, actually, so John was nothing if not persistent.

"It got away," Dean said simply, but Sam heard the evasiveness in his brother's voice. He wasn't telling them everything. "It happens, Sammy."

"Not very often," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. I mean, maybe Dad didn't have his wheaties that morning."

Dean looked at the girl in the backseat as he pulled into one of the hotels on the main street in town.

"This one okay?" he asked.

Sam had noticed they weren't staying in rooms that were as trashy as they used to. The rooms actually looked like they had recently been cleaned.

"This is good," Alyson said. "I'm just glad we didn't get caught for breaking and entering in broad daylight."

Dean grinned. "See, Sammy. At least someone's thankful for the little things in life."

Sam scoffed as the car was put in park. Dean was evading and changing the subject, which meant he definitely knew something he wasn't saying.

"What else do you remember?" Sam pushed.

"Nothin'. I was a kid, a'right?" Dean sounded a little annoyed. He got out of the car and walked into the office by himself.

"Why do I feel like it's much more complicated than that?" Alyson said.

"Because with Dean it usually is," Sam said.

They watched as Dean rang the bell in the counter inside the hotel. A young boy, probably about twelve, came out from a back room. He said something to Dean and then looked down but was smiling when he looked back up. He was probably giving Dean a hard time.

A woman, probably the boy's mother, went into the office and the boy went back to the room he'd previously been in.

A few minutes later, Dean came back out with a key.

"I call first shower," he said, leading them to the room.

Sam rolled his eyes while Alyson just shrugged.

"Don't use all the hot water," Sam said.  
_____  
Alyson was sitting by Sam on one of the beds in the motel room Dean had paid for, while Sam was going through a few paranormal websites. He'd asked if she wanted to help, but she had turned him down. They didn't have time to mess around. They were on a clock with these children and it would take longer if she was the one doing the research.

She was watching Sam closely, though, and ringing in whenever she had an idea he hadn't come up with already.

"Have you found anything yet?"

"No. Just a bunch of stuff about witches in general."

"Try cross-referencing witches with mysterious illnesses or child illnesses."

Sam typed what she said in the search box and a bunch of websites came up. They needed to narrow it down.

"It'd be nice if we knew the origin of the thing," Sam said. "Which country it started in."

The shower cut off and about fifteen seconds later Dean walked out of the bathroom. He was wrapped in a towel that hung tightly from his waist.

Alyson felt heat make its way up her neck only to settle in her cheeks. She wasn't used to guys running around half naked. She actually wasn't used to guys, period.

"Dean, you might wanna take your clothes with you next time," Sam said.

"What?" Dean asked, sounding distracted.

Alyson looked up and saw Dean was digging through his bag, probably for clothes. Dean's eyes locked with hers for a few seconds and he looked like he finally got what Sam was talking about.

"Sorry." He sounded like he meant it so she nodded, accepting his apology. Dean got his clothes from his bag and went back into the bathroom.

"It was probably just out of habit," Sam said gently. "He'll get used to you being here."

Alyson smiled at him slightly. "It's okay. We all have things to get used to."

Sam accepted that and went back to researching. She moved closer to him so she could read off the computer screen.  
\-----  
When Dean next walked out of the bathroom he was fully dressed. His brother and their new traveling companion, whom he had just embarrassed, were on the bed still staring intently at the computer screen.

"So did you find anything?" Dean asked as if nothing had happened.

"Yeah," Alyson said. She smiled his way, forgiveness on her face, and he gave her a small grin.

"And?"

"Well, you were right," Sam said. "It wasn't easy to find, but you were right. A shtriga is a kind of witch. They're Albanian, but legends about 'em date back to ancient Rome. They feed off of spiritus vetae."

"Spira-what?"

Alyson giggled and he eyed her suspiciously. What was funny? Maybe she was another brain and thought it was funny he didn't know all the stuff that came naturally to people like Sam.

Sam seemed amused but answered Dean anyway. "Vitae. It's Latin. It translates to breath of life. Kind of like your life force or essence."

"Didn't the doctor say the kids' bodies were wearin' out?"

Sam nodded. "It's a thought. You know, she takes your vitality, maybe your immunity goes to Hell, and pneumonia takes hold. Anyway, Shtrigas can feed off of anyone, but they prefer -"

"Children," Dean finished.

Dean dug his dad's journal out of his bag and opened it to the last page that had writing on it. Their dad had left it for them, so Dean had periodically added things to it when he and Sam came across something not written about by their dad.

"Probably because they have a stronger life force," Alyson said. "Or at least more of it."

"And get this," Sam said, looking at the web page. "Shtrigas are invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man."

"No, that's not right. She's vulnerable when she feeds," Dean countered. "If you catch her when she's eating, you can blast her with consecrated wrought iron. Buckshot or rounds, I think."

"How do you know that?" Sam asked.

"Dad told me. I remember."

Dean busied himself with making coffee, but he could still feel Sam's eyes on him. Obviously Sam knew Dean was holding something back.

"So, uh, anything else Dad might have mentioned?"

"No, that's it."

"Okay," Sam said. "So assuming we can kill it when it eats, we've still gotta find the thing first, which isn't gonna be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise."

"What kind of disguise?"

"Historically, something innocuous – it could be anything. But it's usually a feeble old woman. Which may be how the witches-as-old-crones legend got started."

"An old woman?"

Dean grabbed a map of the town out of his bag – he and Sam always got a map of the town they went to. It helped them find things easier and they could keep notes on it if need be.

"Check this out," he said as he spread the map out on the one table that the room held. "I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far. And dead center?"

"The hospital," Sam and Alyson said.

Dean nodded. "When we were there, I saw a patient – an old woman."

"An old woman, huh?" Sam scoffed. "In the hospital? Whew, better call the coast guard."

Sam turned away from the map and from Dean, laughing as he did it.

"She had an inverted cross hangin' from her wall."

Sam stopped laughing instantly and turned back around.

"That's what you were looking at earlier when you stopped," Alyson said. "We have to go back there."

Dean nodded. They did need to go back. If that old lady was the thing they were looking for, they needed to stop her as quickly as possible.  
\-----  
The closer Alyson got to the pediatrics ward, the worse she felt. It started as shakiness and quickly turned into nausea and shortness of breath.

"You're not gonna hurl, are ya?" Dean asked from beside her.

"No, Dean. At least not until I get back in your car."

"Hey. Don't talk about my car like that. You'll walk back to the motel."

"Yeah, but you'd just walk back with me since you don't want to leave me alone."

Dean stuck his tongue out at her and it struck her how much of a kid he was. She shook her head but wasn't really annoyed. She thought it was cute.

"Are you two finished? Or do you wanna talk some more so we can get caught?" Sam asked, seemingly caught between annoyance and amusement.

"Don't look at me," Alyson said. "Dean started it."

"Hey, I was just expressing my concern," Dean replied. "I mean, you look like you're about to empty your stomach all over the place and I'd like to be somewhere else when that happens."

"If it happens. Which it's not going to."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. "Oh, children, behave."

She grinned and when she looked at him, she noticed he was grinning too. Their playful banter, however, was over.

When they reached the end of the hallway, they had to stop because there were voices coming from the next hallway over.

"Good night, Dr. Hydecker," a woman said from around the corner.

"See you tomorrow, Betty. Try to get some sleep."

Sam, Dean, and Alyson turned away from the voices and they made themselves look busy until Dr. Hydecker walked by them. He didn't notice them and she was relieved. She didn't feel like having to make up a lie for why they were there so late. They weren't really from the CDC and she didn't know that the CDC would have a legitimate reason to be there so late even if they were who they were pretending to be.

The longer they stood there waiting for the doctor and nurse to leave, the worse Alyson began to feel. She felt like she was going to pass out.

Dean lightly tapped her on her arm and mouthed "Are you okay?" when she looked at him.

"I'm okay," she mouthed back.

She was dizzy. Not as dizzy as she'd been when it had happened earlier, but still . . . She didn't like it. It wasn't normal. She'd never been the overly sensitive type. She usually didn't let nerves get to her. She hated hospitals, true, but her body had never reacted like this just because she'd been in a hospital. Something else was wrong, it had to be.

Like last time, she focused on matching her breathing with Dean's and it worked this time as well.

"Okay, let's go."

Dean hesitated, but then nodded. "Come on, and stay behind us."

"Really not an issue. You two are the ones with the weapons and all."  
\-----  
Dean led Sam and Alyson to the room he'd stopped at earlier. The door was closed now whereas it had been open earlier – probably due to some lights out thing.

Dean got his gun out of his jacket pocket and gestured for Sam to open the door. All three of them walked into the room and Alyson closed the door quietly; it barely even clicked.

There was an old woman sitting on a wheelchair in the middle of the room. She wasn't moving – she didn't even seem to be breathing, but she had to be or there would've been doctors and nurses flooding the room by now.

Dean walked closer to the woman, but Sam stayed behind with Alyson. Sam pulled the gun out of the waistband of his jeans. The woman still wasn't moving even though there were three new people in her room. Maybe she couldn't hear properly?

Dean was pretty much nose-to-nose with the woman when she said, "Who are you? Who's there?"

All three jumped, but Dean fell back against the wall and forced himself not to pull the trigger his finger had been tightening around.

"You tryin' to steal my stuff?" the woman asked. "They're always stealing around here!"

Sam turned the light on and Dean saw that he hadn't been the only one frightened. Both Sam and Alyson were breathing heavily, and Alyson had her hand over her heart.

"No, Ma'am. We're maintenance. We're sorry. We thought you were sleepin'."

Dean ran a hand over his face trying to calm himself down. The woman really knew the meaning of the word 'surprise'.

"Oh, nonsense," the woman said. "I was sleepin' with my peepers open? And fix that crucifix, would you. I'm asked four times already."

Dean put it the way it was meant to be. The old broad wasn't evil, apparently, but that didn't mean there wasn't something evil in this hospital.

Dean put his gun back in his jacket pocket and Sam put his back in his jeans.

He decided it was time to leave after that embarrassing mishap.  
\-----  
When Alyson and the hunters got to the car, Sam started smiling.

"I was sleepin' with my peepers open?" Sam laughed and Alyson joined in.

"I almost smoked that old gal, I swear," Dean said, but it sounded like he was trying to keep from smiling. "It's not funny."

"Oh, man, you should've seen your face, Dean."

Sam was still laughing, but Alyson could tell something was bothering Dean, so she stopped. By that time, all three of them were situated in the car, so Dean started her up.

"Hey, are you feeling better?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, definitely better."

"You get like that every time you go into a hospital?"

"No. Maybe it's because I know how bad off these kids are. Anyway, I feel completely okay now."

Alyson did feel completely fine since she wasn't in the hospital anymore. She just didn't understand what was going on with her body. It was having random freak outs and she didn't know why. Which wasn't good at all. If she didn't know why she was having mini panic attacks, she couldn't stop them. If she couldn't stop them, they would soon become a liability. She would become a liability.

As it was, she wasn't able to contribute much anyway because she had no clue how to be a hunter. She didn't even know how to shoot a gun.

As if that wasn't enough, now her body was doing things she didn't want it to do.  
\-----  
Alyson's eyes popped open and she hurriedly sat up. She looked around the semi-dark room – the room could only get but so dark with the neon lights flashing outside.

Neon lights? She definitely wasn't home. She didn't have a home anymore. Not really. She wasn't at home and the demon wasn't attacking her, and her mom's death was not her fault.

She pushed her hands through her hair, her fingers catching on tangles that had been made from tossing and turning.

It was barely four in the morning and she knew she wouldn't be going back to sleep. This was going to be a fun day.

Noise came from the bathroom and light poured from underneath the door. Sam was missing from the other bed so she assumed that meant he was the one in the bathroom.

Sam walked out of the bathroom quietly but stopped short when he saw Alyson sitting up.

"Did I wake you?"

"No."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Truth be told, she was starting to feel shaky again. A cold chill went down her back and she shivered. She assumed the dream had caused her nerves to act up again.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I just had a nightmare."

"Oh. Your mom." Sam frowned. "Do you wanna try to go back to sleep."

"I won't be able to."

"You wanna watch TV?"

"Sure." She grinned slightly at the awkwardness that was her and Sam. He probably wasn't used to trying to figure out how to best comfort a teenage girl, and she wasn't used to a man trying to comfort her.

Sam handed her the remote and she scooted over so Sam would have enough room on her bed to sit. She thought about throwing something at Dean to wake him up but then thought better of it. If Sam was going to stay up with her to comfort her, they would need Dean to be well-rested and level-headed.  
\-----  
After failing to find something on TV, Sam suggested they go outside. Maybe the fresh air would do them both some good. There was a café across the street, and Sam wanted coffee, so he began walking that way.

He and Dean were used to drinking a lot of coffee. He needed it to wake up in the morning – or in this case he would need it to stay awake.

Sam ordered something for Dean and himself while Alyson ordered a French Vanilla cappuccino. Apparently she needed sugar and caffeine.

"So I know why I woke up so early," Alyson started, grabbing her cup from the counter, "but why were you awake?"

"I woke up for the same reason you did."

"Nightmare," she said. "You have nightmares often?"

"Yeah."

"Anything specific?"

Sam pointedly did not look at her. She seemed sincere enough in her concern over his nightmares, but this was a touchy subject for him. He hadn't always had nightmares even though no one would've been able to blame him if he had – just look at the life he lived. The nightmares had started a little less than a year ago and he had ignored them until the crazy night Dean had come back in his life.

"The thing that killed your mom – that killed my mom – it killed my girlfriend too."

"Oh. Wow. Recently?"

"About eight months ago," he responded.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"It's okay." Sam took a deep breath and sighed. "That's the main reason I'm here now."

"I thought it was because you were trying to find your dad."

"That's part of it. My dad knows more about this thing than me and Dean. In order to find this thing and kill it, I have to find my dad first."

It wouldn't be too far a stretch to say that he was obsessed with finding Jessica's killer. He needed to find that demon. He couldn't think about anything else.

"I was in college," he said. "I was going to be a lawyer."

Alyson snorted. "A lawyer?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing. I just can't see you being a lawyer. You're too honest, for one."

Sam smiled tentatively. "Thanks, I think." He was choosing to take it as a compliment. "Anyway, I took time off after Jessica died."

"You wanna go back?"

"I do. I miss my friends. I miss being even remotely normal."

Alyson didn't say anything, but Sam chalked it up to them having made their way back to their room. When they went in Sam saw Dean was already awake and alert.

At least one of them would be useful today.  
\-----  
Around nine o'clock Dean led the way out of the room so they could get ready to find a restaurant for breakfast. The young boy who had given Dean a hard time the night before was sitting outside on a bench.

Dean remembered the guy's mom had called him Michael. He also remembered that Michael had had a smart mouth. He wasn't being smart now. In fact, the poor guy looked devastated.

"Come on," Dean said to the others and began to lead them over to the boy.

The closer he got to Michael, the easier it became to see that Michael had been crying.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Dean asked, crouching down in front of the boy.

"My brother's sick."

"The little guy?"

Dean had found out the night before that Michael had a little brother. Michael had been caring for him when Dean had gone into the office area to check in.

"Pneumonia," Michael said. "He's in the hospital. It's my fault."

"Oh, come on. How?" Dean asked.

"I should've made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't have gotten pneumonia if the window had been latched."

An open window? Coincidence? Dean didn't believe in coincidence. He began to wonder how many of the patients had parents thinking their children were sick because of an open window.

"Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault, okay?"

"It's my job to look out for him," Michael countered, shaking his head.

Dean understood the responsibility that having a younger sibling brought onto someone's shoulders. When something happened to Sam, Dean always felt responsible. Michael felt responsible for his brother's sickness.

Michael's mom came outside with her arms full of blankets and a pillow. She was frantically telling Michael what to do. Turn the No Vacancy sign on because she was going to be gone for the night. Don't mess with any of the rooms or guests.

"I'm going with you," Michael said and walked toward his mom and her car.

She put the things she had in her arms into the backseat and turned back around. "Not now, Michael."

"But I gotta see Asher!"

Dean stepped forward and put a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Hey, Michael. I know how you feel, okay? I'm a big brother too, but you gotta go easy on your mom right now. Okay?"

Michael nodded, and his mom shut the back car door only to drop her purse. Sam picked it up and handed it to her. Dean could tell by the way she was acting that Michael's mom shouldn't be behind the wheel of a vehicle.

"Hey, listen, you're in no condition to drive. Why don't you let me give you a lift to the hospital, huh?" Dean figured he would end up at the hospital later, anyway, so he may as well get this woman there safely while he was at it.

Before Dean left the parking lot – in fact, before he'd even gotten in the car – he told Sam, "We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead, do you hear me?"  
\-----  
"So does every case hit Dean this hard?" Alyson asked.

"No. I think it's just because this thing is messing with kids."

"Oh. Well, yeah, that's bothering me too." Alyson looked at Sam. "What happens now?"

"Well, library. We need to find a newspaper that covers the state of Wisconsin or at least check the newspapers in the surrounding towns."

About ten minutes later, Sam pulled up in front of a two-story brick building. The library wasn't huge, but it was average size for a small town. It had a quiet room that had computers in it. Well, they weren't really computers – it was more of a monitor that didn't have a keyboard. It was loaded with newspaper articles.

They had only been searching for a few minutes when Sam found what they needed. More information on the patterns of the Shtriga. He got his cell phone out and dialed Dean's number. You weren't actually supposed to use a cell phone in the library, but Alyson didn't say anything. Considering she had already broken into someone's house, this was just a minor offense.

"Hey, how's the kid?" Sam asked.

She looked at Sam, who shook his head. She took that as not good and turned her attention back to the monitor. Sam went on to explain to Dean what they had found. They had started the search from the date Dean had given them earlier, the one from when their Dad had been there. Every fifteen to twenty years, the shtriga seemed to hit a new town. In all the other places, it went on for months and went through dozens of kids before everything just went back to normal. The kids would languish in comas until they eventually died.

In other words, this shtriga had just begun in Fitchburg.

All the cases they had found had happened in Wisconsin; it made Alyson wonder if this was the same one – the location fit, and if this thing went into hibernation or whatever it would need to be close to its lair.

Alyson pulled up one of the articles Sam had found and read the title: Doctors Battle Mysterious Ailment. It was dated from the 1890s, and there was a picture beside the article of a group of doctors crowded around a patient's bed. Hydecker was there. Wow. He was extremely well-preserved.

"Sam, I think I found the shtriga."

Sam turned to her and she pointed to the picture. She saw him check the date and watched as his eyes widened.

"Dean . . . it's the doctor."

Sam hung up and grabbed Alyson's arm. She assumed that meant they were done there.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out a little bit more about Alyson's abilities. Sam shows a little bit of jealousy. We find out how Alyson feels about hunting and saving people.

Dean was waiting outside the hospital when Sam and Alyson pulled up. He watched as she jumped over the seat to get to the back and then he hopped in the passenger seat.

He was beyond furious and it was made known by the fact that he hadn't made Sam give up the drivers' spot.

The doctor that was taking care of the kids was actually the one who had made them sick in the first place. It made sense in a sick, twisted, ironic sort of way. The doctor image meant the parents would be none the wiser while Hydecker slowly sucked the children dry.

"So . . . you didn't shoot him, did you?" Alyson asked carefully.

"No. I wanted to, but I didn't."

"We should've thought about this before," Sam said. "A doctor is a perfect disguise. You're trusted; you can control the whole thing. I'm surprised you didn't draw on him right there."

Sometime in between Dean's inner monologue and Sam's reiterating of it, they had pulled into their motel's parking lot.

"Yeah, well, first of all, I'm not gonna open fire in a pediatrics' ward."

"Good call," Alyson said.

"Second, it wouldn't have done any good because the thing is bulletproof unless he's chowin' down on somethin'."

They had reached the room now and as Dean went in he threw his jacket down on the nearest bed.

"And third, I wasn't packin', which is probably a really good thing because I probably would've just burned a clip in him off of principle alone."

"Gettin' wise in your old age, Dean," Sam said.

"Yeah, but at least now I know how we're gonna get it."

"What d'you mean?"

"The shtriga – it works through siblings, right? Well, last night . . ." Dean let the sentence trail off there but looked to see if Sam knew what he meant.

"It went after Asher."

"So I'm thinkin' tonight it's probably gonna come after Michael."

"Then we've gotta get him outta here," Sam said urgently.

"No. No, that'd blow the whole deal."

"Dean, you wanna use the kid as bait?" Dean raised his eyebrows in agreement. "Are you nuts? No! Forget it. That's out of the question."

"It's not out of the question, Sam. It's the only way. If this thing disappears, it could be years before we get another chance."

"Michael's a kid. And I'm not gonna dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook."

"Dad did not send me here to walk away."

"Send you here? He didn't send you here, he sent us here."

"This isn't about you, Sam!" Dean exploded. "I'm the one who screwed up. It's my fault. There's no tellin' how many kids have gotten hurt because of me."

"What're you saying, Dean? How is it your fault?"

Dean didn't speak; he barely even moved.

"Dean, you've been hiding something from the get-go," Alyson said. "Even I can see that."

Was he that transparent? A girl who barely knew him could see through him?

"She's right," Sam agreed. "And since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Talk to me, man. Tell me what's going on?"

Dean really didn't like this caring and sharing business, but Sam was right. He needed to let Sam know why he was taking this case so personally. It wasn't just because the shtriga was going after children, although that was reason enough.

"Fort Douglas, Wisconsin," he started. "It was the third night in this crappy room, and I was climbin' the walls. I needed to get some air. You were asleep, so I left. Dad had told me to stay in the room; I shouldn't have left."

Dean vividly remembered the reason he'd left the room. There had been an arcade across the street. He hadn't meant to stay for long, but he'd ended up staying until closing. Sam had still been asleep when Dean had gotten back to the room. The shtriga had also been there leaning over Sam. A white light had been coming out of him. Dean had been about to shoot it, but their Dad had come in time to shoot it instead.

Shooting had done nothing. Dean and his dad had distracted it and it hadn't been feeding anymore. It had just jumped out the window and Sam had been fine.

"Dad just grabbed us and packed, dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away. By the time we got back to Fort Douglas, the shtriga had disappeared. It was just gone. It never resurfaced until now. Dad never spoke about it again – I didn't ask, but he, uh . . . he looked at me different, ya know, which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order and I didn't listen. I almost got you killed."

"Dean, you were just a kid," Sam said.

"Don't." Dean was jostled as both Alyson and Sam sat by him on the bed, one on either side. "Dad knew this was unfinished business for me, and he sent me here to finish it."

"But using Michael? I don't know, Dean, I mean . . . how about one of us hides under the covers, ya know? We'll be bait."

"No, that won't work. It's gotta get close enough to feed. It'll see us. Believe me, I don't like it, but it's gotta be the kid."

"Dean's right," Alyson said.

"What?" Sam asked incredulously, and Dean had to admit that he was surprised, too, that the newest addition to their team would so easily go along with this.

"Well, think about it, Sam. I mean, I get where you're coming from and if it would work, I'd hide under the covers, but like Dean said, it has to get close enough to feed and it would see me. Anyway, you two are gonna be there. Nothing's gonna happen to him. I do think you should talk to him first, though. Maybe he saw something and he'd be willing to help. I know he's young, but Asher is his brother."

Dean wondered if talking to Michael would help the situation. Talking usually didn't accomplish anything other than freaking the other person out. However, since Asher was in the hospital right now, Michael may do anything if it had a chance at helping his brother.

So they would go talk to him.  
\-----  
Talking to Michael was turning out to be a bad idea. He was threatening to call the cops. He thought they were crazy – not that Alyson blamed him. Michael already had the phone in his hand and Dean was trying his hardest to get Michael to believe what they were telling him.

"This thing – is it, like . . . it has this long, black robe?"

Dean seemed to hesitate. "You saw it last night, didn't you?"

"I thought I was having a nightmare."

"I'd give anything not to tell you this, but sometimes nightmares are real."

"So why are you telling me?"

"Because we need your help," Dean said. "We can kill it. Me and Sam, it's what we do, but we can't do it without you."

"What? No!"

"Michael, listen to me. This thing hurt Asher and it's gonna keep hurting kids unless we stop it, you understand me?"

After about a minute, Michael still hadn't said anything so Alyson and the two brothers walked out of the office.

"Well, that went crappy."

"What'd you expect? You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid."

Michael caught up with them as they were opening the door to their room

"If you kill it, will Asher get better?" the young boy asked, uncertainty lacing his voice.

Alyson wanted to take the boy into her arms. She hated seeing children in pain – emotional or physical, it didn't matter. Children should never have to worry about loss or, well . . . anything, really. Childhood should be carefree.

"Honestly?" Dean said. "We don't know."

"Asher's my brother," Michael said. "I'd do anything for him, so . . . I'll help."

Dean nodded and led all of them into the motel room.

"A'right. To insure everything goes as planned, we'll need to set up a few things in your room."

Alyson paid attention to what Sam and Dean did and everything they got together. What if she had to do this herself one day?

Soon enough Alyson found herself standing in Michael's room with Dean. He was putting a camera up on a high shelf, which she couldn't have done because of her shortness.

Sam was in the other room setting up a live feed from the camera. They would be able to see everything from the monitor on Sam's laptop.

"Now, this camera has night vision on it, so we'll be able to see everything clear as day," Dean explained, looking at Michael, who was already in his bed.

Dean went to the bed and sat on the edge.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Michael nodded. "I just don't know what to do."

"You just stay under the covers. We're going to be right in the next room. We're gonna come in with guns. As soon as we do, you roll off this bed and you crawl under it."

"What if you shoot me?"

"We won't shoot you," Dean said and grinned. "We're good shots. We're not gonna fire until you're clear, okay?"

Michael nodded and looked down at the sheet he was under.

"Michael, you sure you wanna do this?" Dean asked. "You don't have to. It's okay. I won't be mad."

"No, I'm okay," Michael said, looking back up. "Just don't shoot me."

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. I promise."

Alyson smiled softly as she watched Dean comfort the boy in the bed. Dean was a really good guy. He covered up a lot of pain and issues with his smart little comments, but underneath it all he could be sweet.

Dean and Alyson stayed with Michael in his room until around midnight and then they left to go in the other room. They paid attention to the live feed of Michael's room and absolutely nothing happened for what seemed like a long time.

Around two-thirty Alyson began yawning. She had been up for almost twenty-four hours. At least she'd be able to sleep when she hit the bed – she'd probably be too tired to have nightmares.

"Maybe it's just not coming," Alyson suggested.

"It'll come," Dean countered.

Things were silent again until Dean asked what time it was.

"Three," Sam answered. "You sure these iron rounds are gonna work?"

"Consecrated iron rounds. And, yeah. It's what Dad used last time."

Alyson noticed that Sam kept looking from Dean to the computer screen and back again.

"Hey, Dean, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Well, you know . . . I've really given you a lot of crap for always followin' Dad's orders, but I know why you do it now."

"Oh, kill me now," Dean muttered, and Sam chuckled.

Alyson wanted to laugh along with him, but she was beginning to feel shaky again. Her breathing was fine, so she wasn't having a panic attack. She just felt off.

"Guys, look," Dean said. He was looking at the computer screen. There was a long hand unlocking the window in Michael's room and then the shtriga entered through the window.

Dean and Sam picked up their guns, which were beside the computer. Michael was still in the bed and the shtriga was standing by the bed, but it wasn't moving. Alyson didn't know if it was because Michael was awake or because of something else.

"Now?" Sam asked.

"Not yet," Dean said.

They watched as the shtriga moved closer to Michael and leaned over him. A white light came across the screen. It was coming from Michael; the shtriga was feeding off of him.

"Now," Dean said, getting up quickly and bursting into Michael's room. Sam followed quickly.

Alyson stayed with the computer so she could watch through the screen. It wasn't as if she could help with anything anyway.

Michael rolled off the bed and crawled under it. Alyson couldn't count the shots that were then fired because there were so many. Finally, the shtriga fell down beside the boy's bed.

Dean and Sam walked over to the shtriga, probably to make sure it was dead. Dean looked at it for a moment before lowering his gun. Suddenly the shtriga sat upright and grabbed Dean by the throat, and threw him into the closet across the room, breaking the door on impact. He didn't move.

Not being able to bear watching the horror playing out on the screen, Alyson jumped up and stormed into the room.

"Dean!" Sam yelled.

The next thing Alyson knew, Sam was being pushed to the ground and the shtriga started choking him. Sam was trying to pick up his gun, which he had dropped when he'd been pushed, but he couldn't reach it.

She rushed over to Dean, who was still on the floor and unconscious.

"Dean, wake up!"

The shtriga needed to be shot to be killed and she had yet to learn to aim. She didn't want to risk shooting Sam.

Speaking of Sam, the shtriga was no longer choking him; it was pulling a while light out of him. His life force, she realized as Sam's skin started turning gray.

"Dean, Sam is in trouble. Now get up!"

Dean had a gash on the right side of his head. It wasn't bleeding badly, but he'd obviously – and unfortunately – hit it hard enough to knock him out.

Maybe she would just have to risk shooting Sam because if she just sat there and did nothing, he would die anyway. She scrambled around looking for the gun Dean had been using, but she couldn't find it anywhere. She'd just have to chance getting closer to Sam so she could get to his.

She would've done it too, if Dean hadn't grabbed her arm as she began to move. She looked at him, hoping he would be able to find his gun and kill the thing attacking Sam.  
\-----  
Dean's gun was underneath him, he found out as he searched for it. He grabbed it and didn't bother standing up. He shot from where he was laying.

"Hey!" he shouted.

The shtriga looked right at him and Dean shot it right between the eyes. It fell backwards and off of Sam.

"You okay, little brother?"

Sam gave a thumbs-up sign and got to his feet. Dean almost jumped when Alyson touched his arm, but he quickly realized she was just trying to help him up. Once he was standing, he moved to Sam. He had to check on him. Sure, Sam thought he was fine, but who really knew? Dean wouldn't be satisfied until he saw for himself.

Sam was staring at the shtriga. Dean looked too. The thing was ugly, but light was coming out of its mouth. Some of it went into Sam's body.

"The life force," Alyson said softly, coming up and stopping by Sam. "Are you okay?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Sam was fine, Dean kept telling himself. But that thing had almost killed him. He almost hadn't been fine. Dean shot the shtriga three more times and the light began coming out faster and he figured the children would be okay.

He realized Alyson was staring at him so he raised his eyebrows in question.

"You just shot something that was already dead."

Dean shrugged. "They always come back. Haven't you even seen a horror movie?"

She grinned and rolled her eyes, but he could see that behind her smile she was a little freaked out. And really, who could blame her? Until recently her life had been completely normal.

Not for the first time, he wondered if she would be able to adapt to this lifestyle.  
\-----  
Alyson watched as the shtriga's form began to deflate. The more light that came from it, the less form it had. Finally it disappeared completely and left only the robe behind.

It suddenly registered in her mind that this shtriga-thing had been around every time she'd had her mini-panic attacks. Her body apparently reacted badly with supernatural forces.

Michael came out from under the bed and he and Dean shared a smile.

"Dean, you need to go clean yourself up," Sam said. "I'll stay and help Michael with this mess."

Dean nodded and started to walk away. Alyson followed him. Once they got to the door Dean stopped and turned back around.

"Bring Michael with you when you come, Sammy."

The younger Winchester nodded his agreement and Dean and Alyson left the room.

Dean led her to the Impala, where he popped the trunk and dug out a first aid kit.

"I can do this myself," he said.

"I wanna do it," she insisted. "I need to."

Dean started at her for a second before handing over the first aid kit. She was relieved she hadn't had to argue for it.

"So . . . thanks for waking me up," Dean said, "and for not shooting Sam."

She shook her head. "I felt so helpless. I couldn't do anything."

"Well, we'll take care of that," he said. "I'll teach you how to aim."

Relief flooded through her at his words. "Good. Because you guys could've died tonight and I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it."

Part of her need to help was because they were protecting her and she felt she needed to contribute in some way. Sam and Dean were letting her disrupt their already stress-filled existence. She didn't want to cause them anymore trouble than she already had. They were good people and one more able-bodied person wouldn't hurt in their line of work.

The other part of her need to help, her need to learn about these supernatural things was purely selfish: She wanted to survive.  
\-----  
By the time Sam finished helping Michael clean up, the boy was almost dead on his feet. He'd probably had an adrenalin rush and was now getting ready to crash. Sam led the boy to the room Dean had rented and as soon as Michael had settled onto the bed Alyson had been using he closed his eyes and was asleep within moments.

Dean and Alyson were in the bathroom and he could hear them talking; what they were talking about Sam didn't know. When they finally came out Sam saw that Dean's wound had stopped bleeding.

"Don't touch it," Alyson said. "I can't bandage it because it's too close to your hairline."

The blond girl looked at Michael, who was snoring lightly, and then the two brothers. Sam noticed Alyson had an almost nervous expression on her face. What was wrong? What exactly had been said in the bathroom?

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I have something to tell you guys," she whispered.

Sam laid the car keys on top of the TV and then sat on the vacant bed, waiting for the blond to start.

"Um, I think this is going to sound insane, but . . . um . . . I think I have some sort of built-in demon radar thing."

"Why would you think that?" Dean asked, sitting beside Sam.

"Well, because every time I had my freak outs that thing was near me. The first time, we were in the hospital getting ready to talk to Dr. Hydecker. As soon as we left the hospital, I was fine. The second time, we didn't talk to Dr. Hydecker, but he did pass us in the hallway. One or two minutes after he left, I felt better. The third time, the thing was here attacking Asher; I didn't know it at the time, but it fits.

"And you had another episode before the thing came in Michael's room," Sam said, catching on.

"Yeah. And my shakiness went away after you killed it."

"So you're gonna have a panic attack every time you get near something supernatural," Dean asked, eye brows raised.

"No. They've gotten better each time. I mean, I'm not counting the yellow-eyed demon, because I actually had a reason to panic then, but this last time and the time before that . . . my breathing was fine. I could function. I just have, like, an early alert system."

Sam looked at his brother and willed him to not freak out. Dean didn't like anything unexplainable. He didn't even like Sam's nightmares and they sometimes allowed them to save lives. It wasn't normal for people to have dreams like that, so Dean didn't like them.

Nothing about what Alyson had just explained was normal. Dean probably wouldn't take it very well.

"Well," Dean began, "in this line of work, that's actually a good thing."

What? It was actually a good thing? Sam thought.

Granted, Dean was right. If they could be warned when something nasty was coming it would probably save their lives a hundred times over, but Sam couldn't believe Dean had said that.

Dean, who didn't think anyone with a supernatural ability was completely right, was letting Alyson off pretty easy. After all the trash he'd fed Sam about the abilities he had . . . this was what she got?

How was that fair?  
\-----  
Around ten the next morning Sam and Dean were loading up the car so they could get ready to leave. Alyson had still been asleep when they had begun, and Dean had decided to just let her sleep.

On his final trip inside the room, however, he found that she had woken up and was looking around in a panic.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, instinctively reaching for the gun in his back pocket.

"Nothing," she said, her cheeks turning pink.

"Bull," he said. "What's up?"

Had something been in here before he had come back in? No, she would've said something if that were the case. She wouldn't have lied about it. She wouldn't have lied about a nightmare either. So what was wrong?

"I woke up and nobody was here," she muttered.

If he hadn't been so close to her, Dean probably wouldn't have heard her.

"Oh." Dean didn't like how vulnerable she sounded, so he was quick to reassure her. "Well, you were sleeping and we didn't want to wake you up. We were just loading the car up so we could leave whenever you decided to join the land of the living again."

The blonde nodded. "It just scared me for a minute."

Dean grinned and sat beside her on the bed – Michael had gone back to his room hours ago.

"So let me get this straight. You wanted me to give you space before, but now you freak out because you woke up and no one was here?"

Alyson shrugged. "You could've been hurt. Or . . . you could've left. I mean, I don't even know who I am or what I'm capable of, and I have this fear that one day it's gonna be too much for you and Sam to handle and you'll leave . . . and I'll be alone."

"I'm not going anywhere," Dean said. He knew that was what she needed to hear because that was what he needed to hear. His mom had died when he was four and his dad was almost never there. Sam had the tendency to leave all the time. Dean needed someone who wouldn't go anywhere.

"Anyway," Dean, uncomfortable, cleared his throat and stood up. "You should change; we're getting ready to go."

Alyson stood up and Dean watched her quickly go for her bag of clothes.

"Do you want me to wait for you?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks."

Dean waited for about ten seconds, which gave her enough time to go to the bathroom and shut the door, and then he went back out to the Impala.  
\-----  
When Alyson had changed and was satisfied with her look – really, she had just woken up, so she didn't expect a masterpiece – she went out to the car where Sam and Dean were talking about the kids that had been sick.

Wait! Had been? That meant they were better, right? Apparently they had all made miraculous recoveries. When she asked about it, Dean told her that they all had woken up early that morning.

"It's too bad, though," Sam said. "Michael will always know there are things out there in the dark. He'll never be the same, you know?"

"Yeah, but he just helped save a bunch of lives; he saved his brother's life. He probably feels pretty good right now." She threw her bag in the backseat and climbed in the car. "I know I do."

Asher and the other kids were awake and alive because of what she and the Winchester's had done. Okay, the two guys had done most of the heavy lifting, but she had done what she was able to do.

So, yeah, she felt pretty good.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a sparring scene between Alyson and Dean that I enjoyed writing. We also find out how inquisitive Alyson is - or basically we see how her mind works when she's working a case.

Alyson and the guys were out in the middle of a field they had been passing on the road. About three days had passed since the whole Shtriga incident and the guys hadn't found another job, so Dean had decided she should begin training while they had downtime.

Sam was basically just observing, but Dean actually wanted to spar. Alyson agreed to at least try; she hadn't mentioned the self-defense she'd taken and she wasn't planning on saying anything. Dean would eventually find out.

Dean seemed surprised when she easily kicked him away when he grabbed her. She hadn't kicked him hard enough to hurt him, and he only stumbled back a few steps.

Alyson grinned and fell into a familiar defensive stance. He now knew that she knew how to defend herself physically.

"That kick wasn't a lucky shot," Dean said. "You've taken fighting lessons."

"I prefer the term 'defense' lessons, but yes. Five years of them."

"What if I were a demon? I'd have every intention of killing you."

Her grin left her face then because she had no idea how to kill a demon. She'd been proud of herself for staving off Dean, but his words were so true. If he had been a demon . . . she'd be up the creek without a paddle. She wouldn't be able to defend herself against a demon.

Sure, she'd heard of exorcisms, but she didn't know how to perform one. The only thing she could do was stick to fighting, so that's what she did.

She flinched as his hand came close to hitting her – he had stopped just short of touching her skin. He gave her an amused look that told her she was being silly because he would've never actually hit her.

The thing was Sam was standing on the sidelines laughing. Nothing was funny about this – why was he laughing? It was distracting her.

"Lay down on the ground," Dean said. Now he had her attention.

"What?"

"That hit would've landed. You would've been on the ground by now and I would probably be trying to kill you."

She had messed up and, if he had been a demon . . . she would be dead.

Once in position on the ground she had to keep herself from panicking. Dean was a big guy compared to her 5'3" and it would be hard to fight him in her vulnerable state. She had to use his own momentum against him, but she eventually kicked him off. She got up quickly after that but didn't rush him. It was probably what he wanted her to do.

Once Dean was back on his feet he stalked toward her but didn't get within reaching distance. He seemed stunned, surprised, and proud all at the same time. Each emotion was directed at her, she noticed.

Neither moved and Sam laughed again. This time Dean was distracted. Alyson took the opportunity to punch him. Actually, it was more a love tap than anything else. Then she kicked his legs out from under him and at first she felt triumphant, but then Dean managed to bring her down with him. He used his whole body to flip them so he was now on top. They were back where they had started.

She clenched her jaw in frustration. This was not what she had pictured a fight with Dean would be like. Dean's eyes were mocking her, daring her to do something. She was trapped and he knew it. Her arms were being held above her head and he was holding them with only one of his hands.

If this had been anyone other than Dean – or maybe Sam – she would've been frightened. Dean's intention was to help her learn their way of fighting; he would never really hurt her. This style of fighting was so different from what she was used to. Her defense training was more a form of art to her than anything else. This style, however, was fast and brutal and violent. She guessed she would call it "Survive Any Way You Can" if she had to pick a name.

She turned her head to the side and did the only thing she could think of doing: She bit him. She didn't draw blood, but she surprised Dean enough to get him off of her.

"That's cheating," Dean said and grinned.

Alyson returned the smile and grabbed Dean's hand when he reached down to help her up.

"You never said I had to play fair." She shrugged. "Demon's won't play by the rules, so why should I?"

"That attitude is gonna save your life one day," Sam said.

Alyson couldn't help but compare her new life to her old one. She had to do things she'd been taught not to do. For one, she was going to have to learn not to blush or stammer when lying. Something told her she would have to lie a lot in this profession.

Two: She's been taught to play by the rules her whole life. She had set rules to live by, and by learning to be a hunter she was probably going to end up breaking every one of them.  
\-----  
They ended up in a low-class bar later that night. Alyson was only seventeen, so she couldn't drink alcohol and she had to leave by midnight. Dean could tell she was feeling pretty uncomfortable and out of place; she'd probably never set foot in a bar before, or if she had, not a bar like this one. Not a bar that almost promised fights and unruly men that would probably hit on her.

"You're really not into this scene, are you?" he asked her.

He, Sam, and Aly – she deserved a nickname; she was one of them now – had sit down at a table together and were still seated together. Sam was reading through a newspaper and Aly was nursing a Pepsi. Had she wanted a beer or something Dean could have easily slipped her some, but when he'd offered she had declined.

"No, I'm really not," she answered. "It's . . . weird being here. Everyone is older than me and they're drunk." She offered him a small smile. "I like the music, though."

There was a band up on stage. They were playing some kind of country/rock combination and they weren't half bad.

"Look, we can leave if you don't like it here," he offered. He felt they kind of owed her since she had tried so hard to save Sam from the shtriga. He had been able to tell that she hadn't just been trying to save Sam for herself – not because Sam was one of the guys keeping her safe. She'd been trying to protect him because, even after so short a time, she cared about him. She cared about both of them.

"A'right, so I think I found something," Sam said as Aly opened her mouth to speak. She shut it quickly and looked at Sam, who now had the newspaper and their dad's journal on the table in front of him.

"What d'you got?" Dean asked.

"Mark and Anne Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their home just a few days ago. Their throats were slit; there were no prints, no murder weapons, and all the doors and windows were locked from the inside."

Dean shrugged. "Could just be a garden-variety murder. Ya know, not our department."

"No. Dad says different."

"What d'you mean?"

"Look," Sam said, turning the journal so Dean could see. "Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York."

Alyson looked over the page as well and Dean saw her eyes widen. She was probably confused by all the symbols and intimidated by the handwriting. It probably read like chicken-scratch to her because she hadn't grown up listening to John Winchester talk about all the things he'd written about.

"The first one happened in 1912, the second one in 1945, and the third in 1970. The same M.O. as the Telesca's – the throats were slit, the houses were locked from the inside. Now, so much time passed between the murders that nobody checked the pattern, except for Dad. He always kept his eyes peeled for another one."

"And now we've got one. A'right, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out."

Dean looked over to the bar where he spotted a few girls. They looked his way – had already been looking his way and he gave them a cocky grin he knew made girls swoon. Normally at this point of the evening Dean would choose a girl or two and they would head to a motel. Sam would either opt to wait in the car or would drop him off with his girl of choice.

With Alyson there, however, it would be awkward, to say the least. Besides, what if the yellow-eyed demon came after her? Sure, Sam would protect her, but who would protect Sam? It would probably be safer to forget the overnight stays with girls, at least for a while.  
\-----  
When Alyson awoke the next morning the first thing she noticed was that Dean was still asleep. He had had a few drinks the night before so that was probably why. Sam wasn't there, but he'd left a note on the motel stationery; he'd gone to get coffee. Apparently the hotel coffee wasn't good enough.

Alyson quietly got out of bed, got some clothes from her bag, and went in the bathroom to shower. By the time she was done, Sam had come back. She smiled softly when she noticed a coffee cup on the bedside table. He'd placed the cup near the bed she'd slept on the night before.

She immediately went to take a sip and smiled again when she realized Sam had remembered she liked French Vanilla cream instead of regular milk.

Sam was in the middle of attempting to wake Dean up. Dean groaned and brought his arm up to cover his eyes. He probably had a hangover. It was his own fault if he did; he shouldn't have drunk so much.

"Dean," she said. "Come on. Sam's got coffee and I can get you some headache medicine, but you have to get up first."

Slowly but surely, Dean got up and they were able to pile into the car. Sam ended up in the driver's seat this time; Dean was in the passenger seat, his head leaning against the window.

About two miles up the road they stopped at a convenience store where Alyson bought some Excedrin. She was going to give Dean some, but when she got back to the car he was sleeping so she just hopped in the backseat and tossed the bottle into her purse.

Dean was still asleep when Sam pulled the car onto the street the Telescas had lived on. Alyson noticed that he didn't pull directing in front of the house; she assumed it was so no one would suspect anything. No one would associate the Impala with the Telescas.

Deciding to let Dean continue to sleep, Sam and Alyson got out of the car and walked to the Telesca house on their own. Alyson was happy to find that there was no yellow crime-scene tape – the police had already finished their investigation, she assumed.

Alyson watched as Sam pulled out a lock-picking kit. It took Sam maybe thirty seconds to unlock and open the door. They quickly stepped in and closed the door.

"I need to learn to do that," she muttered, but Sam must have heard because he grinned.

"You'll learn eventually. I didn't want to risk someone seeing us. It is broad daylight."

"I understand, and I was just sayin' . . ." She shrugged. "There's a lot I need to learn. I hate feeling helpless and useless."

"You're not helpless. You're just new." Sam touched her shoulder and she looked up to catch his eyes. "And you're definitely not useless. If you hadn't woken Dean up the other day, I probably would've been shtriga food."

Instead of responding to Sam's sincerity, all Alyson could do was look around and take everything in. Of course everything meant nothing because the room they were standing in had nothing in it. There was no furniture to be seen. They were in what had been the living room – or so she assumed because of the fireplace on the other side of the room.

"Where's all their stuff?" she asked, looking at Sam, who seemed as confused as she was. He shook his head and didn't verbally answer.

He pulled an EMF meter out of his jacket pocket. "You know how to use this?"

"The red lights plus the noise means paranormal activity."

"Right." Sam handed her the one in his hand and pulled another one out of his pocket. "You want upstairs or downstairs?"

"Downstairs," she said. "It's close to the door."

Sam actually laughed at that. "Understandable. This is all new to you." He grew serious again. "A'right. Check everything even if it seems stupid."

She nodded and went off towards a little hallway that led to the kitchen. She figured she would start from the back of the house and work her way to the front.

Throughout her search the EMF meter stayed silent and unlit, which didn't surprise her because she wasn't getting any vibes from the house. There was nothing supernatural there. What she was feeling was morbid. She was going through a dead person's house. This house was fancy and big like Alyson's house had been. Her mom would've loved the house, would've felt right at home there.

Alyson shook her head, not wanting to think about her mom. She just wanted to get out of the house. She waited by the stairs for a few minutes before Sam began walking down them.

"Find anything?" they asked in unison and they both smiled.

"No," Sam said as Alyson shook her head. "There's no furniture up here either. And no ghosts."

"No ghosts for me either."

She didn't say anything, but when she'd been in the kitchen she'd checked the cabinets and things and everything was missing there too. Who had come here and taken all the Telescas stuff?  
\-----  
When they got back to the car Sam rolled his eyes when he saw Dean sound asleep. His brother had sunglasses on now, however, so he must have woken up at some point.

"Watch this," Sam said and began running toward the driver's side. The window was open – Sam had left it down so Dean could get some air – so Sam stuck his arm in and beeped the horn.

Dean jumped, startled, and grabbed his head. "Man, that is so not cool."

"That was so mean," Alyson said, but she was also laughing.

"Yeah, what she said," Dean muttered, leaning his head against the window again.

After Sam and Alyson were back in the car, Sam explained how they had searched the house and hadn't found anything with the EMF.

"I checked the history of the house last night while you guys were sleeping," Sam continued. "No haunting, no violent crimes, nothing strange about the Telescas themselves either."

Dean pulled his sunglasses off and sat up. "A'right, so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then, uh . . . maybe it's the contents – a cursed object or somethin'."

"Anyway, the house is clean," Sam said.

"Yeah, I know, you said that," Dean said.

"No, he means it's empty," Alyson said. "There's nothing there. No furniture, nothing."

"Well, where's all their stuff?" Dean asked.

Alyson shrugged and Sam smiled as she dug in her purse for the headache medicine she'd bought for Dean. Dean grimaced as he took a sip of the coffee Sam had bought hours ago. It was the only thing he had to take the pills with.

"If you hadn't drank so much . . ." Alyson chided softly.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean muttered. "Thanks for the pills."  
\-----  
The three went back to the motel, where Dean collapsed on the bed and Alyson turned the TV on. Sam stayed outside. He'd said something about making a few calls about the Telescas possessions.

"You gonna be okay?" Alyson asked Dean, who had thrown an arm over his eyes to block any light from getting through.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. This ain't my first hangover, Aly."

Aly? Dean had deemed her worthy enough to merit a nickname – or, really, just a shortened version of her name, but still . . . She knew it was one of the ways Dean showed affection. Much like when Dean called Sam Sammy. He had unwittingly made Alyson feel so much more part of the team by this one little thing.

She could also use Aly as a way of distinguishing between her old life and this one. Alyson was who she had been. The name Alyson made her sound soft and fragile, but Aly – just short and sweet Aly – could be whoever she wanted to be under that name. She could stay the same or she could become stronger, made of tougher material.

After a few minutes of silence, Sam came into the room and informed them that the Telescas possessions had gone to a local auction house owned by a man named Daniel Blake. The owner was having an estate sale that day from one to four.

"I assume we'll be going," Alyson said.

"Yeah. We need to, especially if something is haunted. We don't want anyone else getting hurt."

"A'right, so," Dean began, uncovering his eyes and sitting up, "we'll go to the Blake place around one and see what we can find."

Just then, much to Alyson's embarrassment, her stomach made an alarmingly loud grumbling noise. She clutched at her belly as her face warmed up.

Both Sam and Dean grinned at her. She ducked her head and tried to wait for her blush to fade – she knew whenever her face cooled down it would be okay to look up again.

"Maybe we should find a place to eat first," Dean said.

Before Alyson knew what was happening, Dean got up from the bed only to walk over and chuck her under her chin.

"We can't read minds," he said. "You need to let us know when you're hungry."

"Agreed," she said.

She really was going to have to get used to these two men taking care of her. It had been only her and her mom for so long without any male help at all, Alyson didn't know how to rely on the opposite sex. She'd been taught at age ten that she hadn't been able to rely on her dad. He'd left and hadn't come around but for twice a year. And then at age fourteen, she'd received the news that her dad had died. She hadn't grieved for him; she hadn't really known him.

Elizabeth, Alyson's mom, hadn't dated a whole lot, and the men she had gone out with hadn't been brought to the house, so she hadn't been able to meet them or form bonds with them.

Needless to say, she didn't have much experience when it came to the male population.  
\-----  
After breakfast the two hunters and the hunter-in-training decided to head on over to the auction house. In the parking lot of the place were parked very expensive looking cars – like Viper expensive.

"Dean, we should dress the part for this one," Aly said. "I mean, this looks like a pricey place."

"We'll be fine," Dean insisted.

"If you say so, but I've been to a few auctions in my time and the people don't dress in everyday clothes."

Dean knew that Aly was probably right, but he really hated wearing those stupid outfits. Needless to say he was all for going into this dressed normally. Once inside, however, he wished he'd listened to Aly. This was a pricey place and they should've dressed better.

Looking around, Dean noticed that what these rich folks considered art was really ugly. He didn't understand why anyone would pay a dime for this stuff.

Dean realized people were staring at them, the three people who were out of place in this high-dollar place, like they didn't belong there – and they didn't.

"Silent auctions, estate sales – it's like a garage sale for W.A.S.P's if you ask me," Dean muttered.

They went by a tray filled with food and Dean picked up something and shoved it in his mouth only to be interrupted by a guy coming up behind them asking if he could help them.

The three turned around and Dean saw a man – an arrogant looking man, at that – in a suit and tie outfit.

"I'd like some champagne, please," Dean said. The guy immediately became even more arrogant looking. Dean soon found out why.

"He's not a waiter, Dean," Alyson said.

Sam stepped forward. "I'm Sam Conner's. This is my brother, Dean, and our friend, Alyson. My brother and I are art dealers with Conner's Limited. Alyson is an intern."

"You're art dealers?" The man was skeptical and Dean couldn't really blame him. They didn't look the part. Aly owed him a big, fat, I-told-you-so.

"That's right," Sam said firmly, despite the guy looking down his nose at them.

"I'm Daniel Blake. This is my auction house and this is a private showing. I don't remember seeing you on the guest list."

Sam and Alyson seemed to take that at face value and they were willing to leave, but Dean didn't like this Blake guy's attitude. If Blake had even tried to be civil and not snooty, Dean would've cooperated, but he hadn't so . . .

"We're there, Chuckles. You just need to take another look."

When a waiter finally passed by them, Dean grabbed a glass of champagne and smirked at Blake. Dean didn't even like champagne, but he did enjoy the look of pure disgust the owner of this auction house sent him.

It was so easy rustling people's feathers sometimes.  
\-----  
Alyson followed the Winchesters through the auction house even though she thought they should've just left when the owner had told them to.

Near the back of the store there was a set of stairs leading to an upper level. On the wall near the stairs there was a painting of three kids and two adults – Alyson assumed they were the parents. They were dressed in period clothing from the mid 1800s, maybe early 1900s; history wasn't Alyson's forte, but that was her guess.

More important, though, was that the painting was giving her the creeps, sending chills down her spine.

"I think I found what we're looking for," she said, pointing at the painting. "I get chills just lookin' at this thing."

"That's 'cause it's ugly," Dean said, grinning.

"Yeah, it kinda is," she agreed. "There's a, uh, razor blade in the corner there."

It was painted there on the table, half open. There wasn't any blood or anything, but it was still weird since the Telescas had died by having their throats slit.

"A fine example of American primitive, wouldn't you say?" A woman in a knee-length black dress asked as she came down the stairs.

Alyson had no idea what the woman was talking about. She'd never studied art a day in her life. Dean, of course, was checking the woman out – shamelessly -, but Sam seemed to be considering what she'd said.

"Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses, but you knew that. You just wanted to see if I did."

"Guilty," the woman said, stopping in front of Sam. "And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake; my dad owns this place."

"I'm Sam. This is my brother, Dean, and our friend, Alyson."

"Hi," Alyson said, smiling because Sarah was smiling.

"So, can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, actually," Sam answered. "What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?"

"The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling their things this soon, but Dad's right about one thing. Sensationalism brings out the crowds – even the rich ones."

Alyson held back a giggle as Sam and Sarah smiled at each other. The two were making heart eyes at each other.

"Is it possible to see the provenances?"

Before Sarah could answer, her dad came up behind her and said, "I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that."

"Why not?"

"You're not on the guest list. I think it's time to leave."

"Well, we don't have to be told twice," Dean said.

"Apparently you do," Mr. Blake said.

"Okay, it's alright," Sam said. "We don't want any trouble, we'll go."

Alyson grabbed the arm of Dean's jacket and started pulling him away because Dean looked like he had a few choice words to say to Mr. Blake – words that would've gotten him in trouble.

Only when they were outside did she let him loose.  
\-----  
"So, what were you talkin' about in there?" Dean asked and got into the driver's seat of his baby. "Grant Wood? Grandma Moses?"

"Art history course," Sam said. "It's good for meetin' girls."

"It's like I don't even know you," Dean quipped.

He looked at Aly, who was dressed in a tight-fitting black shirt and blue jeans. He wondered if art was her thing. He didn't think so. He had a mental picture of what art girls were supposed to look like and Aly didn't fit the description. She definitely wasn't a Sarah Blake.

Back at the motel room, Sam was researching some more while Dean was looking around. The room looked like it had come out of a bad disco movie. The walls were black with white circles dotted around; the furniture was made of metal and had furry white seat covers.

Dean wasn't surprised by the disco theme – the name of the place was The Boogie Inn. He hoped he hadn't picked this place while he'd been drunk last night.

"Hey, you were saying something earlier about providence?" Dean prompted Sam, who was now going through their Dad's journal.

"Provenance," Sam corrected. "It's a certificate of origin, like a biography, ya know? We can use 'em to check the history of the pieces, see if anything has a freaky past."

"Like that creepy painting," Alyson said.

"Yeah, well, we're not getting' anything out of Chuckles, but . . . Sarah?" Dean smirked.

"Yeah. Maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin."

"Not me," Dean said. "It wasn't my butt she was checkin' out."

"In other words, you want me to use her to get information?"

"You don't have to look at it that way," Alyson said. "She's obviously attracted to you, and you like her. All you have to do is ask her to go out – maybe for dinner. You could both have a good time."

Sam sighed and dug his cell phone out of his pocket. He walked outside. Dean assumed that meant Sam didn't want anyone else hearing what was bound to be an interesting conversation. He imagined Sam stuttering and blushing through asking Sarah out. He remembered the first time Sam had asked him for advice about how to talk to girls. Sam had been about fourteen and was supposed to have been researching at the library but had been distracted by a pretty girl instead.

"Is this his first date since . . ." Alyson started hesitantly and then trailed off as quietly as she'd begun.

"Sam told you about Jessica?" Dean wondered out loud.

"Yeah. It was one of those nights we'd both woken up from a nightmare."

"Oh." Dean knew they both suffered from nightmares and that they both woke up in the middle of the night. Sometimes Sam didn't go to sleep at all. "Well, yes, this will be his first date since Jessica."

"Hm . . . well . . . Do you think he knows it's okay to . . . be okay and have fun and like other girls?"

Dean was going to say "Yeah, Sam knows it, he just doesn't believe it," but Sam chose that moment to come back inside the room.

"I need to borrow the car," he said. "I have to pick her up at seven.

"Where're you guys goin'?" Alyson asked, smiling softly.

"I told her she could choose. We are new in town."

"Makes sense."

For the next hour, Dean had fun watching Sam go through what fancy clothes they had. He ended up picking out a nice white button-up shirt with a black suit with no tie.

Dean hoped he had a good time.  
\-----  
After Sam left, Dean went about showing Alyson how to disassemble a gun, how to clean it, and how to put it back together.

Alyson still didn't much like the thought of handling a gun, but she knew it was necessary. It took her a lot longer to take her gun apart and put it back together than it did Dean.

"Ugh! You make it look so easy!" she snapped, wanting to toss her gun on the floor and give up.

Dean laughed quietly. "You'll get it. Stop worrying so much. Sam and I have been doin' this for years. We didn't pick this up right away, either."

"I know, I'm just . . . impatient. There's so much I don't know. It's gonna end up slowing you guys down."

"Well, you helped us find that painting way quicker than we would have on our own."

That was true, and she'd helped research the shtriga case and had found the doctor guy. She had her strengths, which were mostly book smarts and physical defense training, but the weapons were kicking her butt.

"About the painting: Is it cursed or something?"

"Could be. But it's more likely that one of the people in the painting is haunting it."

"You mean one of them died and latched onto the painting?"

"Yup," Dean said and reached over to take the gun from her.

She had finally put her gun back together. It took maybe six seconds for Dean to undo what she'd done.

"Hey!"

"Again," Dean said. "Practice makes perfect. We'll start endurance training soon."

"Uh . . . what?"

That didn't sound pleasant. That sounded like it involved vigorous exercise or something.

"You know, running and stuff. You already know how to fight."

"I know how to run too! I'm highly coordinated. I won't even trip, I swear!"

Dean grinned. "Yes, I'm sure you won't. But for how long can you run? And how fast?"

"Well, um . . . I don't know."

Alyson knew Dean was just looking out for her. Running away from things was probably a very good – and necessary – skill to have in this line of work. They needed to know what level she was on, so she gave in.

"Okay, but you better not be the type who wakes people up with drills. No exercise before 10:00 a.m."

"Deal," he agreed and laughed.  
\-----  
By the time Sam got back, Dean had moved onto cleaning the knives and sharpening them. He wasn't letting Aly anywhere near them; he didn't want her hurting herself – and she would because she didn't have confidence in herself yet.

Sam had brought some papers back with him and he and Alyson were going over the information on them. Sam had Dad's journal out in front of him so they could check dates and things like that.

"She just handed that over to you?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam answered. "I went back to her place and got a copy of the papers."

"You didn't have to con her or do any special favors or anything?"

"Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please? I think I got somethin' here."

Dean stopped what he was doing and immediately went and sat at the table with Sam and Alyson. They were looking at the papers on the painting that had freaked Aly out earlier.

"Compare the names of the owner's with Dad's journal."

Dean flipped the journal around so he could read it and then took the papers from Alyson's outstretched hand.

"First purchased in 1912 by Peter Simms," he read out loud. From the journal, Dean found out that Peter Simms had been murdered in 1912. Same thing happened in 1945 and in 1970.

"Huh."

"Yeah. It was stored until it was donated to a charity auction last month, where the Telescas bought it. So . . . What? Do you think it's haunted or cursed?"

Dean shrugged. "Either way, it's toast." He handed the papers back to Aly. "Good job."

She smiled softly and looked at Sam. "I didn't do it alone."

"Anyway, a simple salt and burn should work here."

"Salt purifies and the burning gets rid of the object," Alyson said and grinned when Dean nodded.

Dean grinned too because Aly seemed to be learning quickly.  
\-----  
Later that night Sam and Dean broke into the auction house. They left Alyson in the car because she didn't seem too keen on breaking into a public place. She'd just end up messing up if she went into this nervous.

To be fair, Sam thought it would be easier for just him and Dean to do it since the auction house was an actual business and not just a house.

He was glad Alyson hadn't minded staying in the car. They wouldn't have been able to get the painting out as quickly if she'd insisted on coming with them.

Once out in the car, which they had left running, they took off to find a good place to burn the painting.

"That's an ugly thing," Dean said. "If you ask me, we're doin' the art world a favor."

"What happens after we burn it?" Alyson asked.

"We'll pack up tonight and leave in the morning," Dean said.

The hunt was over. They'd found the cursed or haunted – whichever – painting and were on their way to get rid of it. Sam was glad it wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else, but he wished he could stick around and spend at least one more day with Sarah. She was the first girl he'd really liked since Jessica. He'd been scared to get close to anyone because of what had happened to her.

"What was so special about that particular painting?" Alyson asked. "Aside from the fact that it could kill you because you owned it?"

"Doesn't really matter. Once we burn it, it'll be destroyed. All will be good in the world again."

"What Dean means is he doesn't know and doesn't care. He's not much into detail," Sam answered – or tried to answer what Alyson hadn't asked him.

"Well, it bugs me," she said. "I like to know how things work."

Sam let a small smile play across his face. He, too, liked getting down to the nitty-gritty details and learning why things were they way they were.

Maybe they could find out more about the painting before they left this place for good?


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 22 pages long!

"We've got a problem," was the first thing Alyson heard the next morning – in fact, it was what woke her up. She opened her eyes automatically, thinking something was seriously wrong.

"What is it?" she asked and sat up.

Dean seemed downright frantic and he was going through their bags and looking under the bed sheets.

"I can't find my wallet. I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night."

"You're kidding, right?" Sam asked, coming out of the bathroom.

"No." Dean started putting his jacket on and Alyson slowly got out of bed. "It's got my prints, my ID – well, my fake ID, anyway. We've gotta get it before somebody else finds it."

Alyson quickly got some clothes and went into the bathroom to change. As soon as she was done she went back in the main room and grabbed her purse, and the three went out to the car.

"How do you lose your wallet, Dean?" Sam asked and Dean shrugged.

The auction house was already open when they got there, but not a lot of people were there. Sarah was in the main room and seemed pleased when she saw Sam.

"Hey, guys!"

"Sarah! Hey," Sam said, sounding nonchalant – or trying to, anyway.

"What're you doing here? I thought you guys were leaving."

"Uh, we – we are leaving, but I came to say goodbye."

Sarah looked down sadly – Alyson could tell Sarah really liked Sam and wasn't happy with him leaving so soon.

"Oh, what're you talkin' about, Sam. We're stickin' around for at least another day or two. And, by the way, I wanted to give you those twenty bucks I owe you."

Dean took out his wallet from the back of his jeans, and Alyson realized that he'd never actually lost his wallet; he'd just wanted to get Sam to the auction house. He handed Sam a twenty, which Sam seemed reluctant to take but did so anyway.

"We'll leave you two crazy kids alone," Dean said and grabbed Alyson's arm. "We've gotta go do something somewhere else."

Alyson saw Sarah wink at Dean before he dragged her off.  
\-----  
"Guys, we have a problem," Sam said. "A real one this time."

Sam couldn't believe Dean had set him up like he had, couldn't believe Dean had tricked him. Well, actually, Sam could believe it, but it didn't matter anyhow because it was a good thing they had come when they had because the painting they had burned the night before was back in its frame, whole and undamaged.

When Sam told Dean and Alyson, she asked, "How is that even possible?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "I mean, I don't understand either. We burned the thing."

"A'right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it," Dean said. "Any ideas?"

Sam had reached Dean and Alyson before they had even reached the car, so now all three of them got inside and Sam started spouting out ideas.

"In almost all the lore about haunted paintings, it's always the paintings' subject that haunts them."

"Yeah? A'right, so we need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy family in that creepy painting."

Sam nodded. "You up for going to the library?"

"Research is something I already know how to do," Alyson said, grinning. "So, yeah."

Now they just needed to find out where the library was.  
\-----  
This library was bigger than the one they'd gone to in Fitchburg, but it wasn't that surprising because they were in New York now.

The librarian there was an older man, and he became super excited when Dean brought up the Merchant family. He led them to a table and told them he'd be back shortly before he disappeared into a backroom. He came back with a small box full of papers, which he put on the table.

"I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, uh, are you three crime buffs?"

"Kind of," Dean answered. Dean could tell this guy was a crime buff; it hadn't taken all that long to get the box from the back room, so he'd probably already had everything together.

"Well, then, you're gonna love this," the man said, picking up the first thing in the box and handing it to Dean.

It was an article from an old newspaper. The title read, Father Slaughters Family, Kills Self.

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"The whole family was killed?" Alyson asked.

The man nodded hurriedly. "It seems this Isaiah – he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade – used a straight razor."

"Why would he do that?" Alyson asked. "Did he have a history of violence?"

"People who knew him described Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament and controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, two sons, adopted daughter – there were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave, which, of course, you know in that day and age . . ." The man shrugged. "So, instead, Old Man Isaiah – well, he gave them all a shave."

The man made a slicing gesture with his hand and smiled.

"I don't think that's funny," Alyson said, and the smile instantly fell from the man's face.

"Does it say what happened to the bodies?" Dean asked.

"It says they were all cremated," the man said, less excited now since Alyson had pretty much chastised him.

Dean was really more worried about the fact that the Merchant family had been cremated, which meant they had to find something else that these people were attached to. It sounded like they were only going to have to worry about finding the dad, though, so that was a plus.

"Anything else?" Sam asked politely.

"Yeah, actually. There's a picture of the family."

The guy dug through the box he'd brought out and handed the picture to Sam when he found it.

"Can we get a copy of this?"

Sam showed Dean the picture. It was just another picture of the painting; Dean didn't know why Sam wanted a copy of it.  
\-----  
"The two pictures are different," Sam said as soon as they were out of the library.

"Meaning? The only difference I noticed is that one is on canvas and the other is on paper," Alyson commented.

"The dad is different. In the painting at the auction house, Isaiah is lookin' down. Picture here, Isaiah's lookin' out. The painting has changed."

"A'right, so you think Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting?" Alyson asked, sounding skeptical.

"Yeah, seems like it," Dean answered.

"But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?" Sam asked.

They got in the car, but Dean didn't even put the key in the ignition – they really needed to figure this out.

"Well, if Isaiah's position changed, maybe some other things in the painting changed as well. It could give us some clues."

"What, like a Da Vinci code deal?"

"I don't know, I'm still waitin' for the movie on that one."

"Don't bother," Alyson said. "The books are always better."

"Not if you don't like to read," Dean said.

Sam watched Alyson roll her eyes before saying, "Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting."

"Which is a good thing," Dean said, "because you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend."

"Dude, enough already."

"What?"

"Ever since we got here, you've been tryin' to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, a'right?"

"Well, you like her, don't you?" Dean asked, starting the car. "You like her, she likes you. You're both consenting adults . . ."

Yes, he liked Sarah. Sam thought she was beautiful and smart and even a little funny, but . . .

"What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We always leave."

"Well, I'm not talkin' about marriage, Sam."

No, Dean wouldn't be talking about marriage. Dean could sleep with a girl and leave her the next day, but not Sam. Sam craved emotional attachment before sexual activity. He didn't care if that sounded feminine of not; it was what he wanted.

"You know what? I don't get it. Why do you care if I hook up?"

"Because then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time."

When they finally reached the motel parking lot, Sam noticed that Alyson got out of the car before it had completely stopped and he suddenly felt bad for arguing with Dean when she was in the car with them; it must've been really awkward.

"Y'know, seriously, Sam, this isn't about you just hookin' up, okay? I think this Sarah girl could be good for you. And I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure that this is about Jessica, right?"

Sam wouldn't – couldn't – look at Dean, so he kept his eyes on Alyson, who was waiting by their room door; she should probably have come get the key because this conversation was going to take a while.

"Now, I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that, but . . . I would think that she would want you to be happy, God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?"

"Yeah. I know she would." Sam smiled softly even as tears filled his eyes. "Part of this is about Jessica, but not the main part."

Knowing Dean would ask more questions if he stayed in the car, Sam got out and went to open the motel door for Alyson.

"Sorry you had to hear that."

She shrugged a little. "Was bound to happen eventually. And we've still gotta see that painting, which means you still have to call Sarah, so . . ."

Sam nodded and pulled out his phone. He stayed outside while Alyson went in. Before dialing, he made sure Dean had gone into the room and closed the door.

Here went nothin'.  
\-----  
When Dean walked into the room he saw Alyson laying on one of the beds. She seemed to be exhausted. He had to keep reminding himself that this lifestyle wasn't hers – or it hadn't been hers. These weird hours and stressful days that led to sleepless nights were not what she was used to.

"So . . . you regret comin' with us yet?" he asked and flopped down beside her.

She glared at him playfully as her body moved as the mattress shifted with his added weight, but when she answered him he could tell she was being honest.

"No. All three of us are still alive, so we must be doing something right."

She smiled softly and her eyes closed as if she wanted to go to sleep. Sleep wasn't to come, however, because Sam came back in.

"We have to go now. Sarah's dad sold the painting."

For someone who had appeared so tired before, Alyson was now hopping off the bed and heading toward the door.

"Do you have the address?" Dean asked Sam.

"Yeah. The place is, like, an hour away.  
\-----  
By the time the three got to the address it was already dark. The house was more of a mansion and there were bars on the windows – there would be no getting in the house that way. There was a light on in the house, though, so maybe the owner was still awake.

There was a jeep pulling into the driveway behind them and Sam knew who was there. He'd seen Sarah's jeep when he'd picked her up for their date the night before and this was the same make and model.

"I told her not to come," he muttered as Dean parked.

Sam got out first and Dean and Alyson followed him. Dean ran up to the front door and started knocking.

"Sam, what's happening?" Sarah asked – or yelled – as she got out of her jeep. "You said Evelyn might be in danger. What kind of danger?"

Sam didn't know what to say. If he told her the truth, Sarah would just think he was nuts. He wished she hadn't come at all; she'd be much safer somewhere else.

"I can't knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it," Dean said.

Sam pulled his lock-picking kit out of his jacket pocket and tossed it to Dean, who immediately went to work on the door. All the while, Sam was thinking that if Evelyn hadn't come to the door by now she wasn't going to come at all – she probably couldn't.

"What're you guys, burglars?" Sarah asked incredulously.

"Sarah, I can promise you we don't wanna steal that painting," Alyson was quick to assure her.

Dean finally got the door open and Sam watched Dean go in. Sam and Alyson started forward, but he told Sarah she should wait in her car.

"No. Evelyn's a friend."

Sarah actually got in front of Sam and even though he thought it would be best for her stay outside he didn't force his hand. He let her pass by.

The woman named Evelyn was seated in a chair by the fireplace. The painting was above the fireplace and Sam noticed the dad was looking down at the daughter, who was holding a doll in one arm.

"Evelyn?" Sarah called, stepping toward the chair. "It's Sarah Blake. Are you all right?"

Evelyn wasn't moving and Sam could tell the woman wasn't breathing either. He wanted so much to protect Sarah from what he knew had happened, but there was no way to shelter her from this so he let things unfold the way he knew they would.

Sarah reached out and put her hand on Evelyn's shoulder. Evelyn's head tilted back and revealed that her throat had been cut. Sarah screamed and Sam saw her look at the painting, on which the dad was now looking straight ahead. Sam wondered if she'd even noticed the change.

Sam pulled Sarah against him and led her out of the door.  
\-----  
"Aly, come on. We've gotta go," Dean said.

The girl had been rooted to the spot ever since Sarah had revealed Evelyn's slit throat. Dean had seen that the muscles were exposed where the cut was and he also knew that was why Aly was frozen.

She had good reason. She was probably having flashbacks of her mother.

"Hey, you okay?"

She didn't verbally answer, but she did shake her head. Dean knew this woman was only the second dead body Aly had ever seen and she was probably having trouble with all the blood. He wondered if she would ever get used to it; he kind of hoped she wouldn't because she had this sort of innocent light about her that he didn't want to ever be tarnished.

Dean stepped in front of Alyson and blocked her view of the body. "Stay with me. Don't look at her."

Again she didn't speak, but she did nod. He grabbed her arms gently and turned her around so he could walk her out the door Once outside he led her back to the Impala and let her sit in the backseat.

"You okay now?" he asked and squatted down so he could be at her level.

"I've been better," she said.

Dean noticed she was trembling and he didn't know what to do. He had half a mind to call Sam over to deal with her. If Sarah hadn't been there, he probably would have.

Sam and Sarah slowly made their way over to them and Sam also asked if Aly was okay. This time she nodded even though she had just admitted to not feeling her best.

"What happens now?" Sarah asked.

"You need to call the police," Sam said. "We can't be here when they get here."

"But they'll want to know you were here and –"

"Don't tell them we were with you," Dean said.

"Why not?"

"It's a long story," Alyson said, sounding tired. "And, frankly, it's better if you don't know it."

Since Sam was watching over Sarah and Alyson, Dean stood back up and went back up to the house so he could wipe his prints off of the door knob. All the while Dean was thinking about what Aly had said. She'd said it was better if Sarah didn't know what was going on. He wondered if that was how Alyson felt.

Yes, she'd said she didn't regret coming with them, but that really didn't mean much. She'd had a choice between coming with them and having a chance of living or staying at home and pretty much signing her own death sentence. She'd chosen the better of two options; she'd chosen the one that would keep her alive.  
\-----  
Alyson locked herself in the bathroom as soon as they got back to their room at the motel. She just needed a few minutes to herself to get herself together again. It wasn't just Evelyn that had gotten to her, although that would've been more than enough to cause panic in anyone.

Evelyn was only the second dead body she had seen, and to have the body be displayed the way it had been – the woman's throat had been cut. It had been so bloody and she never wanted to see a slit throat again. In fact, if she never saw blood again she'd be perfectly fine with it.

She knew she would, though. She knew this was her life now - dead bodies and blood, demons and haunted paintings. What if she couldn't handle it? Would the guys be okay with her just hanging around and not contributing? She had nowhere else to go.

Stop it! She told herself. Sam and Dean had already had this conversation with her. She wasn't worthless. Even if she couldn't handle the grosser details, she could still help research and she already knew how to fight. They wouldn't just leave her alone, not when this demon thing was after her.

Feeling slightly better, she came out of the bathroom. Dean was at the only table in the room with Sam's laptop in front of him. Sam was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Sam?"

"Coffee run."

"Oh. No sleep tonight, huh?"

"Nope. Wanna help me research?"

"There's only one computer," she said. "Not much I can do."

"You've got a laptop," he said. "Besides, you don't need me looking over your shoulder. You know what to look for."

"No, I really don't. I don't even know where to start."

Nonetheless, she went to her bag and pulled out her laptop and charger, and went to sit at the table with Dean.

"We need to find something other than the painting that Isaiah could've latched onto. If he's been cremated, something has to be keeping him here."

"Hm. We still need to see that painting and find out what else is different."

Dean nodded. "Did you notice that the dad moved?"

"Yeah, and I think Sarah saw it too. She was looking at it when she screamed."

"Probably thought she was goin' nuts."

"Yeah. So how do we find out where this guy's ashes are?"

"City records, maybe," Dean said and shrugged. "Besides we really only need to find out what he's connected to."  
\-----  
Sam finally made it back with coffee and doughnuts; he'd realized they hadn't really eaten that day. He hated starting them out with a load of carbohydrates and sugar, but they would need it to make it through the night.

Sam knew they really couldn't do anything until morning. If they were lucky, they might find out where they could locate Isaiah's possessions. Given the way people were being killed, they should just look for where to find the razor. If Isaiah was attached to anything it was probably that razor. He had killed his family and himself with it.

Around one in the morning Sarah showed up at their door, teary-eyed and shocked but determined.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked, letting her in.

"No, actually. I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's alone and found her like that."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I'm about to call 'em right back if you don't tell me what's goin' on. Who's killing these people?"

Sam looked at Dean, wondering how much he should tell her. Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded, giving Sam the go-ahead to tell the truth.

"Okay," Sam said and looked back at Sarah. "It's not who. It's what is killing these people."

Sarah shook her head, obviously confused at the direction the conversation had taken.

"Sarah, you saw that painting move," Alyson said from the table. She'd been sitting there since before Sam had come back. She'd become excited when she'd seen the doughnuts and had demolished three of them.

"No. No, I was seeing things. It's impossible."

"Yeah, well, welcome to our world," Dean said.

"Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that that painting is haunted."

"You're joking," she said and stared at Sam. When nobody said anything she turned away from him and said, "You're not joking. Wow, the guys I go out with."

"Sarah, think about it," Sam said. "Evelyn, the Telescas . . . They both had the painting, and there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die, and we're just tryin' to stop it. And that's the truth."

"Well, then I guess you better show me. I'm coming with you."

"What? No. You should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous and –"

And he didn't want Sarah getting hurt – or worse. He wasn't just talking about her heart being broken either. She could physically get hurt or she could die. This was nothing to play around with.

"Look, you guys are probably crazy," Sarah said, stepping closer to him, "but if you're right about this . . . Well, me and my dad sold that painting and we might have gotten those people killed. And I'm not saying I'm not scared because I am, but I'm not gonna run and hide either."  
\-----  
Sarah ended up staying with them until around four, and then the whole group decided to drive by Evelyn's again just to see if the police were done with the place.

Luckily no one was around when they got there. Alyson had been asleep in the backseat, and Dean hadn't wanted to wake her, but she'd gotten out of the car when he had put it in park. He, Sarah, and Aly were just waiting for Sammy to get the door unlocked.

"Uh, isn't this a crime scene?" Sarah asked when the door was finally opened.

"Well, you've already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?"

They went into the living room where the painting had been. The painting was still there, of course, but the body wasn't. Alyson froze beside him and he knew she must've been looking at the bloodstain that had been left behind from the murder.

He tapped Alyson's shoulder and she looked at him. He shook his head to let her know she shouldn't be looking at the blood. She nodded back and then pointedly looked at anything other than the blood.

"Um, aren't you worried that it's gonna, you know, kill us?" Sarah asked.

"No," Sam answered. "It seems to do its thing early in the night. I think we're alright right now."

Sam went to the wall and gingerly took the painting down and leaned it against the fireplace it had been hanging above.

"What're you guys looking for?"

"Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, maybe it's doing so for a reason," Dean answered.

Sam pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Dean. It was the copy they had gotten from the library.

Dean brought the paper down so Alyson could see too. Even though the situation was far from pleasant he found it amusing that the blond was so short.

"The razor," she said. "It's closed in this one, but it's open in that one."

Dean looked back and forth between the painting and the picture. "Good job. And it makes sense considering how these people died."

"Hey, look at this," Sam said. "The painting in the painting."

In the picture from the library, Isaiah and his family were standing in front of a painting of what looked like mountains. In the actual painting the family was standing in front of a painting of a building.

"Looks like a crypt or mausoleum or something. There's a word on there, but it's too small to see."

Alyson picked up a crystal ashtray that had been on a table by the bloodstained chair.

"Here," she said and handed it to him.

He put the ashtray up to the painting and saw the word 'Merchant'. So it was a mausoleum – probably theirs.

"So, what, their ashes are there or somethin'?" Alyson asked.

"Maybe. Maybe something else."

Dean wondered why the librarian hadn't known about this place. Or maybe he had and just hadn't told them. Aly had probably scared him – well, maybe not scared – or upset him by having not shared in his excitement over the merchant family murders.

"So we just check each graveyard until we find the one this thing is in?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, pretty much," Sam said.  
\-----  
The first graveyard they went to didn't yield any results and they didn't have any luck with the second one either. By the time they got to the third one. Alyson felt like a zombie. Maybe she needed to recaffienate

"I think this ghost is just messing with us."

She rubbed her hands over her face to wake herself up. She just wanted to go to bed for a few hours – or maybe more like twelve hours.

"So . . . this is what you guys do for a living?" Sarah asked.

"Not exactly," Sam said. "We don't get paid."

"Well, Mazel Tov."

The four continued through the cemetery until Sam stopped walking. He pointed to a building that had the word Merchant engraved on the front of it.

Alyson and Sarah followed the guys over to the mausoleum and Alyson waited patiently for Dean to open the door.

The first things Alyson noticed were spider webs and cobwebs. The four walls were lined with four urns and there was a glass case that had a doll in it. It looked like the one the little girl was holding in the painting.

"Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen," Sarah said.

As soon as all four of them were in the mausoleum Alyson started feeling claustrophobic.

"It was sort of a tradition at the time," Sam explained, looking at the doll. "Whenever a child died, they would preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case next to the headstone in a crypt.

"You notice anything strange here?" Dean asked, pointing at the urns.

Alyson immediately knew what he was talking about. She may not have been doing this for very long, but she had been pretty quick on the uptake her whole life. There were only four urns. The mom and the three kids' urns were lined up in a row.

"Daddy dearest isn't here," she said.

"Well, where is he?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. But I know somewhere we can find out."

Sam and Dean shared a knowing look. Then both said, "The Police Station."  
\-----  
Back in the car, Alyson fell almost immediately to sleep. When they reached the Police Station Dean went to get the information while Sam and Sarah stayed in the car with Alyson.

"I don't get it. What exactly is he going to do in there?" Sarah asked.

"Search county death certificates, try to find out what happened to Isaiah's body."

"How's he even gonna get through the door?"

"Lying and subterfuge, mostly," Sam answered. He laughed softly, but Alyson stirred and moaned a little, so he stopped.

She wasn't used to this 'up for days at a time' thing – she needed all the rest she could get. He motioned for Sarah to get out of the car, so as quietly as they could they did just that.

"Sam, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I don't mean to be forward, but a girl could wait here forever. Is there something here, between us? Or am I delusional?"

"You're not delusional."

Sam felt a sad smile pull at his lips. He had talked a little about his loss with Sarah when he'd had dinner with her because she had suffered loss herself.

"But there's a but coming."

"But . . . I don't think this would be a good idea."

"Can I ask why?"

"Because I like you."

Sarah laughed a little and Sam realized how crazy what he'd said had sounded.

"Wait, you lost me," she said. "This is wrong because you like me?"

"Look, it's hard to explain. It's just when people are around me . . . I don't know, they get hurt." Sam shook his head. "I mean, like, physically hurt. With what my brother and I do, it's . . . dangerous. I had a girlfriend and she died. And my mom died too. I don't know, it's like I'm cursed or something, like death follows me around.

"Look, I'm not scared of much, but if I let myself have feelings for anybody . . ."

A look of understanding entered Sarah's eyes. "You're scared they'd get hurt, too. That's very sweet, and very archaic."

"Sorry?"

"Look, I'm a big girl, Sam; it's not your job to make decisions for me. There's always a chance of getting hurt."

"I'm not talking about a broken heart and a tub of Haagen Daz. I'm talking about life and death."

"And tomorrow I could get hit by a bus. That's what life is. Look, I know losing somebody you love – it's terrible. You shut yourself off. Believe me, I know. But when you shut out pain, you shut out everything else too."

Sam knew she was thinking about losing her mother. She'd told him about how she'd basically stopped living her life when her mom had passed away, but she'd realized it wasn't something her mom would've wanted for her.

"Sarah, you don't understand. The pain that I went through . . . I can't go through it again. I can't."

They were silent until they saw Dean come out of the police station. They all got back in the car and as soon as they did, Alyson woke up.  
\-----  
Dean watched through the rearview mirror as Aly woke up and immediately grabbed at her neck and began massaging. He winced as memories of him and Sam sleeping in the car came to mind. It really wasn't good for necks, and she had fallen asleep with her head pressed against the side window.

"You okay?" Sam asked her from the front seat.

"No," she groaned. "How long was I asleep?"

"At least an hour," Dean said, considering the time he'd spent in the police station. "I thought you would've been out way longer than that."

"Me too." Aly grimaced. "The headache medicine is back at the motel."

"Well, we'll stop by there, okay?"

"Mm, thank you."

Dean wondered why she wasn't healing – how was it possible for her not to feel well if her body could heal from having her stomach torn open? A headache shouldn't bother her at all, right? Or maybe the healing thing only applied to wounds.

"So, what'd you get?" Sam asked.

"Pay dirt," Dean said, thankful Sam had changed the direction his mind had been heading in. Dean started the Impala and handed Sam some papers he'd folded up and shoved in his jacket pocket. He began to drive as he spoke.

"Apparently, the surviving relatives of the Merchant family were so ashamed of Isaiah that they didn't want him interred with the rest of the family. So they handed him over to the county. The county gave him a pauper's funeral – economy style. Turns out he wasn't cremated; he was buried in a pine box."

"So, there are bones to burn?" Alyson asked.

"There are bones to burn. We have to wait for nightfall, though. Diggin' up a grave in broad daylight is sort of against the law."

"It's against the law, period, Dean."

"Not if you don't get caught."

Dean quickly checked Alyson's reaction through the mirror again and saw she was grinning and shaking her head. He figured if she felt better and weren't so tired she might argue with him – playfully, of course. That could be fun; Sam wasn't usually in the mood to banter.

"So what do we do until tonight?" Sarah asked.

"We just have to wait," Sam answered.

"At the motel, right?" Aly asked pleadingly. "Where there's a nice comfy bed and Excedrin?"

"Yeah, and you can get some rest," Dean said.

Dean had to keep reminding himself that Aly wasn't used to staying up for long periods of time. They would have to allow time for her body to adjust, and if that meant letting her take naps throughout the day, then that's what they would do.  
\-----  
The next time Alyson was aware of her surroundings it was because Dean had shaken her awake. It took her a moment to realize where she was because she didn't remember getting out of the car at all and now she was in a bed.

"Come on, we're gonna go eat," he said.

"Do I have to?"

"You need to eat something. You haven't eaten all day."

"Can't you just bring me something back?"

Dean sighed. "I'm not leaving you alone. Besides, if you don't get up now, you'll be up all night."

"Okay, okay. Where are we going?"

"Just some diner up the street."

"Okay, well, let me at least make myself presentable. My hair is probably a mess."

Alyson stood up and realized that Sarah and Sam weren't in the room.

"Where's Sam?"

"He and Sarah are waitin' in the car."

"Why didn't you just say that? I would've gotten up quicker."

Dean shrugged. "Go do your hair, or whatever you're gonna do."

Alyson grabbed her brush from her bag and went to the bathroom. She didn't shut the door because she was only going to brush her hair.

"Hey, are you feelin' better?" he asked.

"Yeah, for the most part. My neck is still a little sore. Guess my healing thing doesn't cover stiffness of muscles.

Alyson ended up putting her hair up in a ponytail because her curly locks didn't want to cooperate when she brushed them, and then she was ready to go.

It wasn't until they were actually seated in the diner that Alyson even realized how hungry she was. She wasn't even able to give Dean her leftover food, which had become par for the course for them; she ate it all this time.

As soon as the four got done eating Dean paid and they left. Sam and Sarah sat in the backseat and since Dean was driving, that left the passenger seat for Alyson.

Alyson began rifling through the box of cassette tapes Dean kept on the floor in the front seat. She finally found the tape she'd been looking for and she popped it in the player on the radio.

Foreigner's 'Hot Blooded' came through the speakers and she began singing along with the lyrics. Foreigner was one of her favorite classic rock bands.

Now that they were headed off to finish this case Alyson began thinking everything over. They'd gone to the Merchant crypt or mausoleum or whatever because Isaiah had led them there, but it didn't really make sense that he would do that unless he wanted them to know he hadn't been cremated.

"Hey, guys? Does Isaiah want to be put to rest or something? Because he's pretty much leading us right to his body. I mean . . . all the changes in the painting, it's like he wants to be found."

"Either way, when we burn the bones it'll be over," Dean said.

"Yeah, okay, but you said that the other night too, and we both know how that turned out."

"Touché," Dean said. "Okay. It should be over then."

Alyson hoped that was the case, but it still felt wrong to her.  
\-----  
The cemetery they ended up at just happened to be the first one they'd checked this morning. It was too bad they hadn't known then what to look for.

"Do you have the plot number?" Alyson asked. "Please tell me you do."

"I do," Dean said, nodding. "Which is good because if I didn't this would take forever.

Sam and Dean got shovels from the Impala's trunk. Neither guy had a problem with a woman digging if she wanted to, but they only had two shovels so they would be the ones to do the work.

Sarah and Alyson carried lighter fluid, salt, and two flashlights. Dean told them not to turn on the flashlights until they got deeper into the cemetery.

It took about four hours for Sam and Dean to finally get done digging. Dean remembered when he and Sam first started digging up graves; it would've taken them twice as long.

Sarah had seemed pretty nervous when they'd first reached the plot number Isaiah had been buried at. Dean considered that normal human behavior; Aly had seemed pretty nervous as well, but she was probably more nervous about getting caught than anything else.

Either way Aly had made small talk with the other girl to take her mind off of what they were doing.

"You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this," Sarah said, and Sam looked up from his spot in the hole in the ground.

"Yeah, well, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?"

Sam hopped out of the hole to stand with the girls, and Dean brought his shovel down to get one last shovelful of dirt. He then used the shovel to break open the coffin – if one could call a pine box a coffin. Inside the box were Isaiah's bones. There were cobwebs and probably bugs in the box. Dean liked bugs about as much as girls did, so he was careful when he had to move around the hole they had dug.

When he was finally up top with the others he picked up the can of lighter fluid and started pouring it over the bones while Sam did the same with the salt. Dean pulled out a box of matches and lit one, then threw it on the bones.

"You've been a real pain in the butt, Isaiah."

"So, the painting is harmless now?" Sarah asked as the fire spread over the bones.

"Yeah, it should be," Sam said, "but we're gonna bury the sucker just in case."

Dean knew they had to wait for the bones to burn completely. Regular fire wouldn't turn bone to ash, but it would burn them enough to purify them. After that, they would head back to Evelyn's mansion.  
\-----  
The car came to a stop in front of the mansion and Sam told Dean to keep the motor running in case something happened.

"I wanna come with you," Sarah said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

They both got out of the car and Sam said they'd be back in a minute. Once inside the house, Sam led Sarah to where the painting had been earlier.

"Uh, Sam . . . you're the expert on all this ghost stuff. Is the painting supposed to look like that?"

What Sarah meant was that the girl from the painting was missing; the girl and the razor.

An eerie, girlish laughter filled the room and the air became chilled.

Sam had every intention of running back outside and dragging Sarah with him. He knew a spirit was around; he assumed the spirit belonged to the little girl and judging by the cause of death in the other cases, she used the razor blade that was now missing from the painting.

They were going to be attacked, and this was the very reason he hadn't wanted to bring Sarah along. He needed to get her out before anything could happen to her.

But on the way to the door, it slammed shut.  
\-----  
"Uh, where are Sam and Sarah?" Alyson asked as the door slammed shut.

She and Dean had been listening to music when they'd both heard the bang of the door. They reached to open their respective car door when they didn't see Sam or Sarah.

Dean was now running to the front door and Alyson was following as quickly as she could. They ducked under the yellow crime scene tape, and when they finally made it to the door it wouldn't budge. Dean tried his hardest, shoving with his whole body, but the door remained shut.

"Dean?" Alyson heard Sam's voice through the door and let a sigh of relief pass through her lips. "Hey! Is that you?"

"Yeah, you all right?"

Dean's phone rang almost instantly and he answered with, "Tell me you slammed the front door."

"No, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl." Sam must've been standing right behind the door because Alyson could still hear him just fine.

"The girl? What girl?" Dean asked. "The daughter?"

"Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might've been her all along."

"Hey, wasn't the dad looking down at her?" Alyson asked. "Maybe he was tryin' to warn us."

Alyson had known the Isaiah thing hadn't felt right, but she hadn't trusted her instincts enough to pursue that pathway with Sam and Dean. She had mentioned it, of course, but she still hadn't believed in herself enough to ever think she could've been right.

Dean got the lock pick out of his jacket pocket and he knelt down to get to work on the door.

"Look, I'm tryin' to pick the lock, but the door won't budge."

"Well, then break it down."

"Okay, genius, let me grab my battering ram."

"Dean, the thing is coming!"

"Well, you're gonna have to hold it off until I figure somethin' out. Get some salt or iron."

"How're we gonna get rid of her?" Alyson asked Dean.

Sam was the one who answered. "I don't know. She was already cremated; there's nothing left to burn."

"Well, then, how's she still around?" Dean asked.

"There must be somethin' else." After a few seconds pause, Sam continued, "Guys? Sarah says the doll might have the girl's hair. Human remains, same as bones."

"The mausoleum," Alyson said, quickly putting two and two together.

It seemed that as soon as Dean had a destination, he was ready to go because he flipped the phone closed and began running to the car. Alyson quickly followed him. She figured he'd probably leave her there if she didn't keep up.

This was Sam they needed to save, after all.  
\-----  
When they got to the gates of the cemetery, Dean didn't even slow down; he sped right through them, knocking them down.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said.

They made their way to the mausoleum – car and all – and when they reached it they both got out of the car and raced toward it. Dean opened the door and went to the glass case with the doll in it and started banging on it with his fist and that didn't work.

Needing something heftier, he brought his gun out of his jacket and used the butt of the gun to hit it. That didn't work either. The glass must've been inches thick.

"Dean?" Alyson called out and he turned to her. "Shoot it."

Dean blinked and looked at the gun, embarrassed. Dean shrugged, chalking it up to being worried about Sam, and moved away from the case to stand in front of Alyson. He had to shield her body in case the glass sprayed everywhere.

He had to shoot the case twice before a hole formed, and the rest was easy to shatter after that.

"So, how come you didn't get the tinglies from this when we were here earlier?" Dean asked Alyson as he picked up the doll from the display case.

He wasn't angry at her and had no right to be, but he was curious. In all his years of hunting Dean had never come across something human that could heal the way she did, and that raised the question of whether Aly really was human or not.

If she wasn't, did it matter? She was only seventeen and she wasn't hurting anyone.

"I don't know," she answered. "This is new to me too, Dean."

Dean took a lighter from his pocket and lit the doll's hair on fire. The stench of burning hair filled the mausoleum and Dean held his breath for a few seconds.

Dean called Sam to make sure he was okay, which he was, and then he and Alyson made their way back to the car.

"What would make a little girl do something like that?" she asked as they started off to pick Sam and Sarah up.

"I don't really care," Dean answered honestly. "It's over; we move on."

It was only after Dean had answered – or at least responded to Alyson's questions – that he realized she was shaking a little.

"You okay?" he asked, to which she shrugged.

"I'll be okay. I'm just gonna have to –" she broke off and Dean noticed as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

She must've bitten hard because she winced and her tongue darted out to soothe the sting.

"You'll have to what?"

"Get used to being in danger," she said softly. "And you guys being in danger. I mean . . . I've been in life-threatening situations that no one should have to be in, situations that shouldn't even be possible, ya know?"

Dean did know, and he didn't really know what to say. He'd been doing this his whole life and, well, he still wasn't used to it – or at least not in the way one usually gets used to things. He'd accepted this as his life; it was something he couldn't change, so he had just begun to go with it – mostly because it was what his dad had wanted.

Dean was surprised when Alyson started sniffling and a few tears slipped from her eyes to slide slowly down her cheeks. He was at a loss of what to do. Comforting girls was not his thing. He wished Sam was here; Sam would be able to help her feel better right away.

"Well . . ."

She looked at him beseechingly, as if she expected him to have all the answers.

"You're safe now," he said. "Nothing life-threatening here. Unless you consider my charming personality dangerous."

She smiled slightly and said, "Very dangerous."

Dean felt an alarming desire to pull this girl into his arms because he could tell she was frightened – she was a frightened child that needed to be comforted.

"We should get back to Sam and Sarah," she said and wiped her eyes, getting back to business.

Disappointment and relief raced through Dean's veins as he started the car.  
\-----  
Alyson stayed in the car when they reached the mansion Sam and Sarah were at. Dean, however, was out of the vehicle as soon as it was in park. Alyson watched him run to Sam, who was waiting on the sidewalk with Sarah, and check him over. From what she could tell, Sam was fine; Sarah, however, had a busted lip. It was no longer bleeding, but the sore was still there.

After Dean was satisfied that Sam was okay he got back in the car. Sam and Sarah got in the back. Everyone was silent at first so Dean turned the radio on and music filled the car. It wasn't loud like he usually had it.

Alyson heard Sam and Sarah start to whisper in the back. She didn't want to intrude on the moment, but it was hard not to hear everything since they were in close quarters.

"So I guess this means you're leaving," Sarah said sadly.

Sam didn't answer right away. Alyson figured it was because they were all in the car together. He probably wanted to wait until he and Sarah were in private.

Dean must've been listening too because he spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"Ya know, I'm the one who burned the doll, destroyed the spirit, but don't thank me or anything!"

Alyson smiled. She was feeling much better than she had been moments ago as they'd left the cemetery. She'd had a moment of weakness and she'd let everything get to her.

"Dean? Don't you think your ego has been stroked enough for one lifetime?"

"No," he said seriously and Alyson shook her head.

Dean was such a goof. He was also uncomfortable comforting people, she'd found out earlier. It was okay. She wasn't comfortable accepting comfort from men; she'd never really experienced it before. Actually, she didn't like accepting comfort from anyone, really. She didn't know what would've happened if Dean had tried anything but talking to her earlier.

When they pulled up to Sarah's place Sarah told all of them bye and pointedly thanked Dean – probably because of his earlier comment about not being thanked.

Sarah got out of the car and walked toward her door. She was walking slowly, as if she was waiting on something or someone.

"Sam, go after her," Alyson said.

"Alyson . . ." he started but trailed off.

"Don't Alyson me," she said. "I'm not the most experienced person, but even I know if two people like each other they should kiss. So . . . go for it."

Sam looked almost convinced but he still wasn't getting out of the car. Alyson wasn't completely sure why he wasn't moving, but if he was anything like her he was probably trying to logic his way through this.

"Think about it, Sam. When we leave which would you regret more? Kissing her and leaving or never getting that experience?"

"Okay, okay," Sam muttered and reached for the door handle.

"That's what I thought."

Alyson was all for free will; sometimes, however, people needed a nudge in the right direction.

She grinned as Sam called out to Sarah and caught up to her on the porch. He grabbed her and she smiled as his lips came toward hers. He even waved to Dean to go on when Sarah opened the door to let him in.

"I guess he's staying, then," Alyson said and giggled.

"Hm."

The car started and Alyson turned her attention to the road. As the car started moving, Alyson looked at Dean, only to notice he was smiling. The smile was genuine and it made her smile too. Dean actually looked happy.

"What?" she asked.

He shrugged. "You're awesome."

"I just did what needed to be done. Most regrets people have at the end of the day are because of chances they've passed up. Sam chose not to have that regret."

By the time they reached their motel room Dean was in serious mode again. He began packing up his stuff so they'd be able to hit the road as soon as they woke up the next morning.

Things had been silent for a while when Dean said, "You know, your instincts are really good. I won't forget that."

Alyson was happy Dean was acknowledging that there had been times during this case when she'd been right or when she'd had a feeling something was wrong. She didn't blame him for doubting her – she hadn't trusted herself, so how could she expect him to? Confidence in your self does influence whether others will have confidence in you as well.

"You were right and I didn't listen," Dean said, and Alyson understood that he was blaming himself for being hardheaded.

"Dean, I wouldn't have listened to me either. I mean, I am new at this. We can use this experience for future reference, yeah?" She grinned. "Just remember the girl is always right!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got my first comment. Comments make me happy, especially the in depth ones, but just a few words to say what you think is good too!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a visit to Missouri and Alyson learns more about herself. There is weapon training.

The next morning Alyson awoke to Dean shaking her gently into awareness. She basically just turned away from him and kept her eyes closed. There was no reason to wake up now; there was no danger in sight – not that she would know since her eyes were still closed and all.

"Come on, sleepy head. It's almost ten. We have to go get Sam."

"Mm . . . daylight. Allergic to daylight," she said, grabbing for the covers. Dean pulled them halfway down her body and refused to give them to her.

"You can sleep in the car if you want, but checkout's at eleven anyway, so you need to get up."

Alyson slowly opened her eyes and stretched her whole body. She wasn't usually so lazy, but her body still felt tired even though she'd gotten about eight hours of sleep. This life was not ingrained in her yet. She wasn't used to staying awake for days at a time.

When she turned back around she noticed Dean was trying to keep from grinning.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said. "You just . . . you look like a rat slept in your hair last night."

Alyson reached up and tried to run her fingers through her hair. It was tangly. She dreaded the thought of trying to brush it while it was dry. She would need to take a shower and condition it.

"So, I talked to Sam earlier and we decided we need to go to Kansas."

"Kansas? Why?"

"To see an old friend," he said. "We're due for some time off, anyway."

"Do hunters get time off?" Alyson wondered out loud.

"In between jobs, sure," Dean answered.

"Hm."

Alyson stood up and headed for her bag to get some clothes.

"Why Kansas, though? Don't you have friends somewhere else?"

"Well . . . Sam suggested it. He thought we should try to find some answers about you and the connection between our mothers."

She noticed he hadn't answered her friend question. The more she thought about it, the more she realized Dean and Sam probably didn't have many friends. They never stayed in one place long enough to make friends.

"Our mothers were probably just really good friends."

"Judging by the pictures your mom had, that's true. But we need to know if there's a connection between what happened to our family and what happened to your mom. Aside from the obvious."

"You mean aside from the thing that killed them?" Alyson asked semi-sharply, and Dean raised his eyebrows at her, apparently shocked by her attitude.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm just . . . I don't know if I wanna know. You know?"

What if they found out that her mom had been into something really bad back in her younger years? Would Alyson be able to handle that?

"Well, we might be able to find something out about you," Dean offered. "Something we don't already know."

Like why I'm a freak? Alyson wondered.

"We're going to see someone who might be able to help."

"This friend of yours?"

"Yeah. I remember you tellin' me you were scared because you didn't know what you were capable of, and maybe this woman can help."

"Hm."

Alyson shrugged, took her clothes into the bathroom and closed the door. She wasn't sure why she was giving Dean such a hard time with this. After all, Dean was just trying to help her figure things out.

She just wasn't sure she should be letting other people in on what she could do. Her mom had warned her not to advertise herself; she needed to be careful.  
\-----  
Dean waited semi patiently for Alyson to get out of the shower. He didn't know what her problem was. Maybe she was just scared. Nobody knew what they would find out.

The girl finally came out of the bathroom at quarter-to-eleven. Her hair hung in loose, wet, waves around her shoulders and she was wearing blue jeans and a maroon shirt. Flip-flops were her shoes of choice today. Her dirty clothes were in her arms.

Her mood seemed to be better now, though she still seemed far from happy.

"Is she a hunter?" she asked softly. "This friend of yours?"

"No. She's a very powerful psychic."

"Oh." She began putting her dirty clothes in her bad. "Are you sure we should be doing this? I mean, my mom's letter said that I had to be careful who I told about this."

"You can trust her," Dean said, now understanding why she'd been acting the way she had.

One, she was scared of what would happen if anyone else found out about her. She really didn't want to broadcast that she was different. Two, she was trying to respect her mother's last written word to her.

If anyone understood obeying one's parents, it was Dean Winchester.

"And she lives in Kansas?"

"Lawrence, Kansas," he specified. "We can practice your shooting while we're there. Trust me, there is no shortage of fields in Kansas."

"And you really think we can find answers there?"

"Nothing is ever a hundred percent, but this is our best shot right now."

"Okay," Alyson said. "Let's go get Sam then."  
\-----  
Once Sam was picked up Dean stopped at a fast food place to pick up some food. Sam got only fries; Alyson wanted only a large Coke. Dean, of course, wanted a full meal.

"Are ya'll even human?" he asked out loud.

"Yes," Sam answered. "But some of us actually know what vegetables are, Dean. We don't rely on red meat for survival."

"Yeah, whatever. Let me know if ya'll get hungry. I want to drive through the night so we can get there by morning."

"What's this woman's name anyway?"

"Missouri Mosely," Sam said. "She helped us out a few cases back. She's good at what she does."

"Hm . . ."

Alyson didn't know about this psychic thing. She knew Sam had visions and, really, she was happy for them; his visions had saved her life. She'd always heard she should stay away from psychics. You weren't supposed to visit mediums or rely on psychic anything. She'd been taught that from an early age.

You weren't really supposed to chase after demons either, yet she was doing that too, so this had nothing to do with what she thought she should or should not do. This was about fear. She was afraid of everything.

She was terrified of finding out about herself. What if she found out she was destined for something she just didn't want any part of? Or what if she was supposed to be evil one day? She really wasn't a threat to the dark forces at all, so that must mean she was going to be one of the bad ones, right? And the reason that demon had come after her in the first place was because he wanted to get rid of her before she got stronger.

Okay, shut up, brain!

Her mom would've mentioned if she was supposed to go bad or something. Plus, a priest had come to talk to her mother. He would've said something if there was something not good about her.

Suddenly something hit her in the middle of her forehead. It wasn't hard and it didn't hurt, and when she noticed that it was a balled up hamburger wrapper she picked it up and hit Dean in the back of the head with it.

"Hey, I'm driving," Dean exclaimed.

"Well, you threw it at me first."

"Yeah, 'cause you were staring off into space and not listening to anything we were saying."

"Well, you have my attention now. What?"

"We were talking about Missouri. She can sort of sense vibes and read thoughts."

"Read thoughts? You mean I'll just be an open book?"

"Well, sort of," Sam said. "But she won't broadcast anything you don't want known."

Okay, visions and being able to see the future was one thing, but being able to hear thoughts – having her thoughts open for inspection . . . That was a bit much.

"Dean? Music, please. And make it loud."  
\-----  
As Dean had promised, they arrived at Missouri's house early the next day. He and Sam had switched spots in the driver's seat several times so they wouldn't have to stop.

When Dean pulled up to Missouri's house he parked and shared a look with Sam.

Last time they'd been here, they had not had the best time. They'd had to go back to their old house to help fight off an evil spirit that was tormenting a family that had just moved in.

He had seen his mom that night. He and Sam both had seen her. At first he'd been scared because, well, his mother had stayed at the house and had become a spirit. Dean didn't know whether his mother had chosen to stay behind or if she'd been trapped there, but he did know she hadn't become a malevolent spirit. She had saved them.

Dean heard Alyson sigh and then she opened the car door and got out. Dean could tell she was still nervous. He and Sam got out of the car as well.

They hadn't even made it to the door before Missouri, a middle aged black woman, came out of the house.

"I was wondering if you three were gonna wait out there all day," she said.

Dean saw Aly's step falter. Maybe Missouri wasn't what Alyson had pictured in her brain. Maybe she'd imagined someone like that crazy phone psychic lady Miss Cleo?

"Hey, Missouri," Sam said. "How've you been?"

"I've been fine." She looked at Dean. "I see you're in a better mood than you were in last time"

"Yeah, well," Dean said and shrugged, "better circumstances this time."

The woman turned to Alyson and said her name.

"I'm sorry about your mom," she said. "I may not be able to give you all the answers, but I'll try to help in any way I can."

Alyson nodded but did not say anything.

"I won't bite," Missouri said kindly. "There's no need to be nervous. They should have asked your permission before bringing you here. It is your secret to tell, after all."

Dean watched as Alyson's whole body tensed. Wow, they really hadn't prepared her for this.

Missouri turned and began walking toward the front door. When she reached the steps, she said, "Well, are you guys gonna come in?"

Dean watched as Aly bit her lip and shuffled her feet. She really was nervous about this and Dean could practically see her weighing the pros and cons in her head. She thought about things way too much.

"Hey, we don't have to start right away. Just get to know her," Sam said gently. "Go in for a few minutes okay? If you don't feel comfortable after that, you don't have to do anything at all."

Alyson looked at Sam and smiled slightly before nodding and going towards Missouri, who was waiting patiently on the front porch.

Missouri led them to the living room and she sat down on the chair there while Sam, Dean, and Alyson sat on the couch. Dean remembered last time he'd been here Missouri had told him she'd whack him with a spoon if he put his feet on her coffee table.

"Do you want to do this now or later?" Missouri asked Alyson.

"Do what?" Alyson asked.

"Try to learn about yourself, of course."

Missouri was talking to Alyson gently and Aly seemed to be trying to calm down.

"We can do it now," she said. "I mean, if these two are gonna be risking their lives to protect me, they deserve to know why, right?"

Alyson looked at Missouri and Dean could tell she was curious even if she was slightly afraid.

"How do we do this?"

"Well, I can tell you a little right now, without you having to do anything," Missouri answered. "I can tell you're nervous about yourself. You don't know who you are, what you're here for."

"I don't know what I'm gonna be used for," Aly whispered. "Or what I'm gonna be capable of."

"Honey, your abilities are inherently good, but what you choose to do with them is up to you."

"Why me?" Alyson asked, voice still a whisper.

"Well, I can't tell you why it's you, but I can tell you why it's happening now."

"We'll take what we can get," Dean said.

Alyson and Sam nodded, so Missouri started speaking.

"Things are getting heavy on the supernatural front. Things are getting hectic out there. People are getting possessed left and right."

Dean looked at Sam, who was frowning, and when Dean caught his eye Sam shook his head. Apparently Sam hadn't heard anything about this either. If people were being possessed as much as Missouri said, why hadn't they run into any recently?

Sure, they had run into the one on the plane, but that had been months ago.

"The world needs balance to prevent chaos, and if ever we were going to need a source of goodness, it would be now."

"Source of goodness? Me?" Alyson asked. "What does that mean? I mean . . . what am I supposed to do."

"The power you have inside of you has only just been discovered. You'll learn more as you get older."

"You mean I'll be able to do more?"

"Yes. I can't tell you what exactly, but it'll be amazing."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, I can sense it," the psychic smiled. "That's all I can sense on my own, honey."  
\-----  
A few hours later, after Alyson helped Missouri make BLT's for lunch, they all congregated back into the living room and Alyson was wondering what exactly she had to do to help Missouri to sense whatever she needed to.

"Just think about anything that's happened since you met these two here," Missouri said, nodding to Sam and Dean.

"Anything?"

Alyson still wasn't used to this reading minds thing. Did that mean Missouri could hear everything? Or was in only surface thoughts?

"Any thought," Missouri answered.

Alyson figured it would be easiest to start at the beginning, so she thought of the first time she'd healed. It was the first time she'd realized she was different.

"Okay, I guess I'm ready."

"Good. Now, this won't hurt, so you can relax. It'll be just like what I've been doing only more focused."

The fact that Missouri had been hearing her thoughts the entire time made it seem less invasive now, even if it was weird.

The thoughts of her healing filled her mind again, as did doubts about herself. If it was anything like earlier, Missouri wouldn't have to read her mind about the latter – the psychic had been able to sense them.

Alyson felt a sudden twinge in her mind; it was as if someone was trying to open a door to her memories. It didn't hurt; it wasn't even uncomfortable. It was just strange.

"Am I supposed to feel this?"

"No," Missouri said. "Can you?"

Alyson nodded and her mind went blank. She didn't mean for it to happen, but she blocked Missouri from getting into her mind. She didn't know why or how it had happened, it just had.

"She's put a wall up. I can't get through."

"Has this ever happened before?" Sam asked.

"No," she answered.

"Is there something wrong with me?" Alyson asked. What if something was wrong with her brain?

"I don't think so," Missouri said. "I think it's just an ability that hadn't needed to surface until now."

"But you could read her mind until just now, right?" Dean asked.

"Yes."

"What changed?" Alyson asked.

"I think it's because I wasn't focused on you before now. My trying to read your mind, specifically, triggered something in your system."

"My body's natural reaction?"

"Yes. I wouldn't be able to get through without hurting myself, I don't think. Just like when that demon attacked you, it triggered your ability to heal yourself. If that demon hadn't come after you, you wouldn't be able to do the things you can do right now. They would've manifested later in life."

Alyson had read somewhere that going through something traumatic could release latent abilities one had. Some people had visions afterwards – only instead of visions, she received a healing ability.

Missouri's explanation of why she could do the things she could do made Alyson feel a little better. At least none of it was just random messed up stuff happening – there was a reason for it happening.  
\-----  
"You never told us you thought your powers were evil," Sam said as he got in the passenger side of the Impala. He and Dean were going to find a vacant field and start training Alyson to shoot.

They had decided to stay the night with Missouri because she had offered, but Sam felt this needed to be addressed now. Alyson couldn't really feel she was meant to be evil, right? Sure, she'd seemed doubtful when she'd heard Missouri call her a source of goodness, but it shouldn't have been surprising. Sam didn't believe Alyson had a bad bone in her body.

"I, um . . . didn't know how to bring it up," Alyson said. "I mean, that isn't an everyday conversation, and . . ."

"And?" Dean asked, turning to look at her.

Sam could tell Dean thought this was important too because he hadn't started the car yet.

"I didn't know how you'd react. And it's not so much that I think I'm evil; I just think I could be used for evil. We don't know what I am or –"

"Hey, we read the letter," Dean interrupted. "We know that you're gonna be unpredictable, ability-wise, but that doesn't mean you have to be scared all the time. We're not gonna let anything happen to you."

"Yeah, I know, and I appreciate that. I just have no control over this. These things keep happening and I can't stop it. If Missouri is right about me being this source of goodness, every demon in the world is going to come after me when they find out."

"Whoa, one problem at a time!" Sam exclaimed. "We can keep demons away, don't worry about that. Right now, let's just find a place for you to practice shooting, okay?"

Sam watched Alyson take a deep breath and exhale. He knew she was just overwhelmed by the knowledge they had gained and by the appearance of a new ability, but it was true she needed to focus on just one thing at a time.  
\-----  
One hour and fifteen minutes later Alyson had hit only two targets, which were beer bottles on a fence, and she was losing whatever patience she usually had.

"Guys, this is a waste of ammo, and my arm hurts."

She hated that she sounded like she was whining, but her arm really did hurt. She knew what was wrong. Things usually came easy for her – school, friends, even her martial arts training – but for some reason she couldn't aim a gun to save her life; one day she would need to aim to save her life.

"Come on. You only have three bullets left. Then you can stop for the day," Sam promised.

"Yeah. Okay."

Alyson readied herself to shoot and grimaced as pain shot through her shoulder. Why wasn't her healing thing working? Was it because sore muscles were a natural thing? It didn't really matter because it wasn't as if the pain was unbearable; it was just irritating.

She lined up the gun with one of the bottles. Dean had told her earlier that she didn't need to rush. They weren't under attack and she was only learning.

She pulled the trigger and held her breath until she heard shattering glass. She had hit one of the targets but not the one she'd been aiming for.

She hoped that it was okay. She knew if she'd been aiming at a person she would have at least hit the person. Sometimes that was enough; it didn't have to be a kill-shot every time.  
\-----  
Before going back to Missouri's place Dean stopped at a local pharmacy to pick up a heating pad for Alyson's shoulder. Training that day had not gone well. Alyson had been nervous and had gotten frustrated. Dean had noticed her hands shaking during the first few shots. She wouldn't do well until she gained confidence in herself.

When they got back to Missouri's place, they found that the psychic was making spaghetti. He could smell the tomato sauce as soon as he walked through the front door.

The first thing Dean did was make sure Alyson found a place she could plug up the heating pad. She needed to use it for about thirty minutes and then take it off for a while. He ended up fixing a spot for her in the living room.

"Thanks," Alyson said as she leaned against the heating pad Dean had placed on the couch.

"No problem. Remember to stretch it out every once in a while."

Sam, who had been digging through his bag, pulled out his laptop and turned it on.

"What're you doin?" Aly asked.

"Looking for a job."

"Oh. I thought we were staying here tonight."

"We are," Dean said. "But it doesn't hurt to look. We'll at least know where were headed."

A few minutes later Missouri came into the living room and asked Alyson to help set the table. It surprised Dean when Aly looked to him for permission.

"It's okay. Just no heavy lifting," he said.

"Oh, I'll just try to lift the refrigerator," she quipped as she rolled her eyes and stood up to follow Missouri into the kitchen.

While the two women were setting the table Sam read an article to Dean about a woman who had survived falling ten thousand feet from an airplane. Dean didn't think that was quite what they were looking for. The next article, however, caught Dean's attention; it was about a man named Daniel Elkins, who had been mauled to death in his home.

Dean wouldn't have found anything strange if he hadn't recognized the name.

"Doesn't ring a bell," Sam said when Dean mentioned it. "It sounds like the police don't know what to think. At first they said it was some sort of bear attack, and now they've found signs of robbery."

"Couldn't someone have robbed the place after he was killed?" Alyson called from the kitchen and Dean grinned. She must have had super hearing.

"That's possible," Sam said. "But we won't know unless we check it out."

When Alyson came to tell them dinner was ready Dean excused himself. He really wanted to check something out, and he would need his dad's journal to do it. He ran upstairs to the room he would sleep in that night and grabbed the journal out of his bag and ran back downstairs.

He started thumbing through the journal as soon as he sat down. Dean finally found the name "D. Elkins" in the journal and a phone number was underneath the name. The area code was from Colorado.

"If we leave in the morning we can make it by noon," Dean said.

"Yeah. Great," Sam said.

Alyson helped serve the spaghetti; meaning she went around and loaded the plates with pasta. She gave Dean an extra meatball because he wanted one, and she gave Sam less spaghetti than everyone else because Missouri had also prepared a salad, and Sam was a health nut, so that was what he wanted.

Dean watched Alyson put a good serving on Missouri's plate and on her own. Alyson ate a salad as well, but hers was more a side salad than anything else.

That night Dean shared a room and a bed with Alyson. Missouri had two guest rooms and Sam and Dean had refused to share a bed when they didn't have to.

To be honest, Alyson didn't seem to mind, but she made it clear he needed to stay on his side of the bed.

"I won't bite," he said and grinned.

Alyson shrugged. "Even if you did, I bite back."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Absolutely not," she said, but Dean couldn't tell if she was serious or not. "Just statin' a fact."

"Hm. Okay, well . . . we should sleep. Early start tomorrow."

"Yeah, um . . . I'm gonna play on my laptop for a while."

"And then be a grump when I wake you up?"

"I'm not grumpy when I wake up!" she exclaimed.

"You are when you don't get enough sleep," Dean teased.

Surprisingly, and unfortunately, Alyson's eyes began to water. Dean thought back to what he'd said and couldn't find anything the matter with any of it.

"What?" he asked, forgetting about staying on his side of the bed. He didn't know what he had done, but he'd made her cry and now he had to fix it.

"I don't like sleeping at night, okay?" she whispered harshly. "I'm more afraid of the dark than I used to be, and -"

Alyson brought a hand to her lips and pressed hard, as if she thought she needed to stop her word flow.

"And what?" Dean asked, and found himself whispering too.

She shook her head and refused to talk, so Dean grabbed her wrist and gently pried her fingers from her lips.

"And what, Aly?"

She closed her eyelids and tears finally fell freely down her cheeks.

"I don't have as many nightmares during the day," she admitted.

"About your mom or -" Dean didn't have to say anything else because she was already nodding.

"It was my fault. I know it was my fault."

"But it wasn't."

Dean thought he knew what Alyson was going through. It was a little thing called survivor's guilt. He'd had it a few times himself when someone he'd been trying to save had been killed and he hadn't been.

"Hey, how about we compromise? You try to sleep and we'll leave the light on? If you're not asleep within thirty minutes, you can do whatever you want. Okay?"

She sniffled a few times and then nodded. Then, oddly enough, she laughed. Mood swings, much?

"Sorry I'm being such a girl. I'm usually more together."

"Yes, how dare you fall apart when you have every right to? It's disgusting," Dean said and rolled his eyes.

She laughed once more and began pushing Dean back to his side of the bed.

"You're such a goof! Go to sleep."

They both settled down and Dean stayed awake long enough to make sure Alyson went to sleep.

Within fifteen minutes, she was.  
\-----  
Alyson was able to sleep all night even though she did have nightmares still. She found she was able to go back to sleep faster when the light was on. She'd only woken up once and she had checked to make sure Dean was actually asleep – she didn't want him giving up his own rest for the sake of hers. He, however, had been sleeping soundly.

They didn't leave as early as they meant to because Missouri had breakfast sitting on the table when the three came down. Bacon, eggs, and biscuits with gravy.

"Oh, I think I love you," Alyson exclaimed. This was her favorite breakfast. Maybe Missouri had known.

Alyson helped herself to some milk and then served everyone else a drink. Missouri also wanted milk; Sam and Dean wanted coffee, which had already been brewed. Alyson knew Dean liked his black and Sam liked his with cream and sugar.

She was slowly learning their ways.

Even though they stayed for breakfast, and even though Alyson helped Missouri clean up after they ate, they still arrived at their destination before dark.

The first thing they did was get a hotel room so they would have a base of operations if this turned out to be something. If it didn't, they would have a place for the night.

"A'right, we need to . . . do what?" Dean asked, and Alyson noticed he was looking at her.

"Pop quiz?" she asked and he grinned. "Um . . . check with the locals? See if he had enemies."

"Good starting point," he said. "We always hit up the local bars first unless the victim had family."

Daniel apparently didn't. So, on the pretense of having been friends with the deceased, they started asking around until they got a push in the right direction.

One of the bartenders at one of the bars they went to had known Daniel as well as a bartender can know his or her frequenters.

"Poor Mr. Elkins lived all alone up in the canyon. Same seat every day. He would go through his papers, make his little notes. He was a nice old man; he was just a nut."

The lady paused as if she were thinking and then spoke again.

"He left the bar real quick the night he died. Didn't even touch his drink. He was always runnin' off to one place or another."

After they left the bar, Dean asked Alyson what they were supposed to do now.

She shrugged. "Go to his place. Check it out."

This part – the knowing what to do – was easy; actually putting the knowledge into practice was the hard part.  
\-----  
Daniel Elkins house had been a cabin, they found out once they'd gotten the address. The place was secluded, which was definitely going to make their job easier.

No lights were on in the cabin, which was understandable because no one lived there anymore.

"This place looks creepy," Alyson whispered and Dean smiled.

"It's nighttime. It's supposed to be creepy," Dean said.

"Hey, at least there's no crime scene tape," Sam said. "If the police did suspect robbery, they've already gone through everything."

When they reached the door Sam handed Alyson the lock pick kit. Dean grinned when her eyes widened and she shook her head.

"You try," Sam said. "It's the perfect time. It's night, no one is around but us, and you can take your time."

Dean watched as Alyson squatted down so her face was level with the door knob. She shook her head again. She was probably thinking they were going to get caught no matter how far from civilization they were.

"You know, I had to break into my own house once," she said softly. "I had forgotten my keys and my mom wasn't home."

"Oh, yeah? How'd you get in?"

"I took the screen out of one of the back windows and used a credit card to slide the lock open on the window. I crawled through."

A small click suddenly filled the night air and Alyson gasped.

"Did I break it?"

"No," Sam said and then laughed. "You unlocked it."

Dean pulled out a flashlight and turned it on as Sam reached over and opened the door.

Once inside the cabin they couldn't help but notice the mess.

"Looks like the maid didn't come today," Dean said.

To be fair, though, not everything looked like bad housekeeping. There were definite signs of a struggle. Papers and books were all over the floor, some shelves had been knocked out of cases and other cases were completely destroyed.

"Um . . . I think there's salt here," Alyson said.

"You mean, like, protection-against-demons salt, or, uh . . . 'Oops, I spilled the popcorn' salt?"

Dean had decided earlier he would use this case as training grounds for Alyson. As long as there was no immediate threat, this would be the perfect time.

Besides, he wasn't worried about the logical, research, knowledge side of things; Aly seemed pretty quick on the uptake. He was, however, worried about the practical, hands on part of the job. He was concerned because Alyson was concerned. Until she grew more comfortable with the weapons and violence and all the illegal things she would need to learn to do, she probably wouldn't be able to do them right.

"Well, the salt is in a circle, so I guess protection. It obviously didn't work."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"You think this guy Elkins was a player?" Sam asked.

"Probably," Dean answered as he made his way further into the cabin. He toed through the junk on the floor. Other than books there wasn't much else to look at.

After looking downstairs, they made their way upstairs where they found a doorway with no door; it had been torn off its hinges. Inside the room it looked like a tornado had blown through it. Almost everything was on the floor - a lamp that had been busted, a bookshelf, books, a drawer. The only thing that didn't look damaged was the desk. It seemed as neat as an old "crazy" guy could keep a desk.

"This must've been the study or an office," Alyson said.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "This doesn't feel right. There's glass all over the floor."

Dean shined his flashlight up and found two open spots where windows used to be.

"Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one," Alyson pointed out.

"Looks like he put up a fight too," Dean added as he went over to the desk.

A leather bound journal was lying underneath a pile of paper. When Dean looked inside he realized it was a hunter's journal. This guy had definitely been in the hunting business at one point in his life.

By the time they were done at the cabin they had found a bunch of scratches on the floor and they turned out to be a message – the combination for a post office box and the location that went with it.

They covered their tracks, which basically meant Sam and Dean wiped off everything they had touched and Alyson had to clean off the door knob.

Then they were off to see what the message meant.  
\-----  
Alyson waited patiently in the back seat as Sam and Dean figured out what to do.

They had already found the post office and the box that went with the combination. A letter with the initials "J.W." on the envelope had been the only thing they had found in the mail slot.

"Should we open it?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "It's probably important."

Just as they were about to look inside the envelope there was a sharp knock on the window near where Alyson was seated. She almost screamed because there was a man standing outside the car; he was probably in his late forties or early fifties and he had black hair with a little bit of gray throughout.

"Dad?" Dean asked, looking at Sam.

They both looked confused as the man opened the car door and slid inside. Alyson moved to the other side of the seat so he could sit.

"Dad, what're you doing here? Are you alright?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm okay," John said and then looked at Alyson. "Who is this?"

"I'm Alyson Daniels. I've been with them for a little while."

"Why?" He seemed surprised and confused. Alyson understood that because it wasn't every day these guys took in a stray.

"We're teaching her to hunt. She'll be able to help us."

Alyson noticed that Dean's whole demeanor had changed. Dean didn't seem as sure of himself now that his dad was around. Alyson didn't like it. Dean had become synonymous with confident in her thesaurus and now she didn't know what to think.

"The demon is after her," Sam said. "We couldn't leave her. She could have been killed."

Sam was different too, she noticed. He was tenser; it was as if he were preparing for an attack or something. Dean had said Sam and John butted heads most of the time.

"The demon? Why?"

"We don't know exactly," Dean said.

"Okay. We can discuss this later, I guess," John said. "I read the news about Daniel. I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three up at his place. Nice job of covering your tracks, by the way."

"Wait, so you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?" Sam asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah. He was . . . he was a good man. He taught me a lot about hunting. We had, uh . . . we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years."

John pointed to the letter Dean was holding, Dean handed it to him and John took the letter out of the envelope. He began reading.

"When you searched the place, did you see a gun? An antique – a colt revolver. Did you see it?"

"There was an old case," Alyson said. She'd almost stepped on it. "But it was empty."

"Then they have it."

"You mean, whatever killed Elkins?" Dean asked. John nodded and got out of the car.

"We've gotta pick up the trail."

"Wait, you want us to come with you?"

"If Elkins was telling the truth," John began and leaned down so he could talk through the window, "we've gotta find that gun."

"The gun? Why?"

"Because it's important. That's why."

"Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet," Sam said.

"They're what Daniel Elkins killed best," John said. "Vampires. I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and others had wiped 'em out. I was wrong.

"Most vampire lore is crap. Crosses won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust? That part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late."

"So what do we do?" Sam asked.

"Go back to the motel. I'll follow behind you."

Alyson watched as John Winchester walked to an old pickup truck across the street from where they were.

She didn't know how she felt about him yet. He did seem a little militant with Sam and Dean, and he'd been stand-offish with her; he hadn't asked her directly when he'd wondered who she was.

He was, however, committed to a purpose and had given them a direction to go in.

She'd learn more about him when they reached the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is my latest offering. I like the scene in the bedroom the best in this chapter. There are other small things I like too, but as far as scenes go, the bedroom scene is definitely my favorite. So, I don't like my Missouri voice that much - she's kind of hard to write. I have a more in depth view of how John feels about Alyson coming up that I couldn't write when I was only doing Aly's point of view.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think. I'm mostly interested in how you guys think the relationships are looking now. Sam and Aly have a much different dynamic than Dean and Alyson do, which is perfectly fine with how I'm going to continue this story.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds out more about Alyson. Alyson finds out more about John's relationship with his boys. She sort of doesn't like him. Dean and Alyson get a little closer.

"Okay," John said. "Someone explain this to me."

He looked at the brown-eyed blond sitting on the bed in front of him.

John had followed his children back to the motel like he'd said he would, and now he was waiting for an answer; he didn't care who answered, but he wanted to know why this girl was with Sam and Dean. Alyson didn't look a day over fifteen; why was she with his sons? Did she not have a family?

"We already told you," Sam said. "The demon is after her and we don't know exactly why. We're teaching her how to hunt. She'll be able to help us and take care of herself."

"And she's willing to learn?"

"She's the one who suggested it," Dean answered.

"Why?" Again the question was directed at anyone with an answer.

"Because that thing killed my mom," Alyson snapped. "It killed my mom and it was after me, so yes, I'm willing to learn."

The whole time she'd been talking, she'd also been digging through her bag. After a few seconds she pulled a picture from the bag and got up to shove it into his hand.

The picture was old and when he saw who was in the picture, John almost bent it he gripped it so hard. Mary. This girl had a picture of Mary. The other woman must have been Alyson's mother. She was familiar too.

"Your mother . . . was her name Elizabeth?"

"Yeah. You knew my mom?"

"I knew her."

John took in Alyson's appearance. He could see the resemblance now that he knew who her mother was. Alyson had her mother's mouth and baby-face cheeks. She had the same curly hair Elizabeth had always complained about hating when he'd known her.

"I, uh . . . I actually met Mary through your mom. Those two were pretty much inseparable when they were growin' up. They were more like sisters than friends."

John looked at Sam and Dean now and knew why they'd taken in Alyson. They had seen this picture and had seen how close Mary and the other woman seemed and felt responsible for Alyson now.

"Mary and Elizabeth had a sort of falling out and they lost touch after Liz moved."

He now looked at the girl.

"How long have you been with them?"

"Three weeks, give or take a few days. They offered to let me come with them and, since they are the only ones who could protect me, I agreed."

That was the last thing that was said on the subject. John only hoped his boys knew what they were doing, trying to train this girl.  
\-----  
Not much talking was done that night. John listened to a police scanner, but that was about it. Alyson still thought that the attitude changes in Sam and Dean were because of their dad being there. Dean wasn't being his usual sarcastic, witty, fun-loving self; he was quiet. Sam was just tense.

Even though Sam and Dean were adults now, John still bossed them around. He even told them when they needed to go to sleep.

Because John was there, Dean and Alyson shared a bed again. She didn't want to wake up next to Papa Winchester because that would be weird, so she offered the spot to Dean.

Alyson didn't have any trouble going to sleep that night because the light was left on because John stayed up researching and listening to the police scanner.

Before she knew it, she was being woken up by John's voice trying to wake Sam and Dean up. Dean groaned as if he didn't want to get up.

"What happened?" she heard Sam ask.

"A couple called 911," John answered. "They found a body in the street. Cops got there, everyone was missing. It's the vampires."

Alyson didn't know how he'd gotten "vampires" from so little information, and apparently neither did Sam because he asked, "How d'you know?"

"Just follow me, okay?"

Alyson suddenly wondered why John was going through so much trouble for a gun. They already had plenty of weapons; what was so special about this particular gun?

Alyson, who had only been listening up to this point, finally opened her eyes and sat up. She, Sam, and Dean had fallen asleep in their clothes, so all they had to do was straighten them out, and they were all set.

"You're not coming," John directed at her and she frowned.

She was just about to argue when Dean said, "Uh, yes, she is."

"She'll only slow us down, Dean."

"We've managed this far with her with us," Sam said. "If we don't let her come with us, how is she supposed to learn?"

"She's not staying here by herself," Dean said. "That demon is after her and if we leave her alone it would make it way too easy to get to her, so she comes."

Alyson noticed that Sam seemed pretty much shocked that Dean was going against John's orders. It also looked as if both brothers were waiting for John to explode and tell them all the reasons she shouldn't come with them.

Instead of exploding, John just said, "Fine. She can come, but she's your responsibility," and then walked out of the room.

Alyson didn't like the awkward silence that filled the room, so she said the first thing that came to mind.

"So . . . vampires, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean said, seeming relieved. "Gets funnier every time I hear it."

Sam smiled a little, also seeming relieved.

Alyson thought it must have been because she hadn't gotten upset over John's attitude. She hadn't been upset because he'd been right. She probably would slow them down, but like Sam had said, she couldn't learn any other way.  
\-----  
"I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with him," Sam said as he leaned against the hood of the Impala.

They had followed John like he'd asked them to and they had stopped on a road where a load of cops were, and John had told them to wait with the car.

"Oh, don't tell me it's already starting," Dean said.

"What's starting?"

Dean didn't get to answer because their dad was coming back.

When he reached them, John said, "It was them, a'right. Looks like they're headin' west. We're gonna have to double back to get around the detour."

"How can you be so sure?" Sam asked.

"Sam –"

"I just wanna know we're goin' in the right direction."

"We are," John said confidently.

"How d'you know?"

Sam hated this part. His dad never gave them all the information, and with this job information was power.

John took something out of his pocket and held it up for them to see. It looked like a tooth, but it was way too sharp to belong to a human.

"What is that? A vampire fang?" Alyson asked.

"No fangs. Just teeth. The second set descends when they attack. Any more questions?"

Sam knew that last bit had been directed at him, so he shook his head and didn't say anything.

"A'right, let's get out of here. We're losin' daylight."

"Um, but it's still –"

Alyson was interrupted by Dean putting a hand over her mouth. He was trying to spare her the wrath that would have come had she finished that sentence.

"Hey, Dean, why don't you touch up your car before you get rust?" John said as he walked towards his truck. "I wouldn't have given you the thing if I thought you were gonna ruin it."

"Keeping a car all bright and shiny is kind of hard to do when he's, I don't know, fightin' evil every day of the week."

"Aly!" Dean hissed.

Sam had seen her pull Dean's hand away from her lips and now he was shocked at what she'd said.

Sam was waiting for what John would say now, but John didn't say anything. Sam didn't know what happened in the few seconds his dad and Alyson stared each other down, but something did happen because they both nodded at the other and John got into his truck and started it up.

All Sam knew was that Alyson had outstared his dad. Alyson had actually told John off. She had stood up to him. Alyson, who was basically afraid of a gun, had defended Dean and confronted John and . . . and John hadn't done anything about it. An understanding of sorts had passed between the two and John had just walked away.

That was weird.  
\-----  
"Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten," Dean said. He'd been researching for a while because Sam was driving. "Smaller packs are sent out to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest, where the packs keep them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks."

"Ew," Alyson said from the backseat. "I wonder if that's what happened to that 911 couple. 'Cause, ya know, that's years of therapy waitin' to happen."

"That's probably what Dad's thinkin'," Sam said. "Of course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks."

"So it is starting," Dean mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Sam, we've been lookin' for Dad all year. Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?"

"No. I'm happy he's okay, a'right. And I'm happy that we're all workin' together again. It's just the way he treats us like we're children."

Dean had heard this argument before. He knew Sam hated the bossy side of their dad, hated the orders and the way their dad expected complete obedience. Sam was stubborn and independent and wanted things done his way. Dad wanted things done his way. Hence, the problem.

"He barks orders at us, Dean. He expects us to follow him without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal."

"He does what he does for a reason. There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, a'right? It's just the way the old man runs things."

"Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids, but not anymore, a'right? Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you tellin' me you're cool with just fallin' in line and lettin' him run the whole show?"

"If that's what it takes."

"That's bull. I mean, we've been with Alyson more than we have with Dad this year."

"Please don't drag me into this," the blond said. "This seems like a very tense family thing and you guys can work it out without me. What matters is that we save those people. Whatever plan works is fine with me. Those people are what matter."

"You should listen to her, Sammy," Dean said. "She's usually right."

Alyson smiled at him, but shook her head anyway, and he grinned at her. He had yet to thank her for earlier even though he thought she was crazy for confronting his dad when he'd been in a mood to begin with. He didn't really know what to say anyway. Dean knew how to apologize very well, but he wasn't great at expressing gratitude. He hadn't had a lot to be grateful for, so he wasn't great at saying thanks.

He hoped helping Alyson smile when she was down would be enough for now.  
\-----  
They drove through the day, only stopping for gas and food; they got the food at the gas station when they got gas. Neither Sam nor Alyson ate much, but they both drank a lot of water.

Sam and Dean switched spots several times throughout the day and Sam was in the driver's seat again. In all reality, they hadn't driven that far; they just needed to find the place the vampires were using as a home, which came with a lot of stopping and going throughout the day.

Dean had been on the phone with John, but he was now telling Sam to pull off at the next exit.

"Dad thinks we've got the vampires' trail."

"How?"

"I don't know. He didn't say."

The car lurched forward and Alyson realized Sam must have punched the accelerator. They passed John's truck and swerved into the middle of the road so John had to stop too.

Sam got out of the car and Alyson saw John get out of the truck.

"Oh, crap. Here we go," Dean said. He looked at her. "Stay in the car, okay?"

"Yeah, no problem."

Once Dean got out of the car, Alyson heard John say, "What was that?"

She didn't want to hear this because this was a family thing, but the windows were down and the guys were near the car.

"We need to talk," Sam said. "Where're we goin', Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?"

"Sammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill the vampires," Dean said.

Alyson watched as Dean tried to get Sam back in the car, but the younger Winchester didn't want to be moved.

"Your brother's right. We don't have time for this."

"Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous to be together. Now, out of the blue, you need our help. Obviously something big is goin' down, and we wanna know what!"

"Get back in the car," John said.

"No."

Alyson felt that Sam was being difficult on purpose and that he shouldn't have been focusing on anything but helping this couple. As Dean had said, there was a time and a place for this; here and now wasn't it.

Dean grabbed Sam and dragged him towards the car. "Sammy, come on, I mean it."

When Sam reached the driver's side door, he said, "This is why I left in the first place."

Alyson rolled her eyes. Is this what happened every time John and Sam were around each other? Did Dean always have to play referee?

"You left," John said, coming closer. "Your brother and I? We needed you. You walked away, Sam. You walked away!"

John grabbed Sam by the shirt and Alyson wondered if they were actually going to fight. And this – this was not the same as earlier. This wasn't just John taking a shot at Dean because he was in a bad mood. This was John's deep-seeded resentment of Sam taking off and getting away from him.

"You were the one who said 'Don't come back,' Dad. You're the one who closed that door, not me. You were just angry you couldn't control me anymore!"

"Stop it, both of you," Dean pleaded.

When she heard the desperation in Dean's voice she got out of the car even though she'd said she wouldn't. Dean was between Sam and John, trying to break them apart. It seemed to Alyson that Dean was the parent here and Sam and John were the brothers.

"Sam," Alyson said. "Those people . . . They could still be alive. We have to find them."

Sam didn't say anything, but when John let go of him he got back in the car. John went back to his truck and Dean shook his head and groaned in frustration.

"You okay?" she asked, hitting him gently on the arm.

"Terrific."

The truck started as they got back in the car. This time Sam followed without complaint.  
\-----  
Part of what John had been doing all day was calling around to local people – police, mostly, but also real estate agencies and banks to learn about abandoned buildings or recent foreclosures.

Sure, vampires could take over houses with people already living in them, but it was easier and less conspicuous if they lived on their own.

That's how John found out about the barn. It was almost a cliché; the barn was big and red and falling apart.

John didn't want to attack at night. It would give the vampires an advantage because they were nocturnal by nature. Besides, now that they knew where the vampires were, they could come back in the morning. That was probably the best plan.

He called Dean and told him to meet back at the motel. He explained his reasoning when they were in the room.

"I thought you said vampires weren't afraid of the sun," Alyson said, and John was a little surprised she'd even paid attention to anything he'd said; she didn't seem to like him much.

They'd had a moment earlier when he'd complained about the car. He hadn't really meant anything by it, but she'd called him out on it anyway. She'd stared him down like a pro; she had guts for such a little thing.

They had sort of come to an understanding in that moment. She knew he was Sam's and Dean's father, and she really had no say-so in what he did with them. But he'd come to know something about her, too. She had been with them more than he had in the past year – and she'd only been with them for about a month if he had the timing right – and she considered them as hers too, in a way. Her friends, her protectors, her teachers. She couldn't have them treated with anything other than respect because they were her world right now.

"They're not," John answered. "Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill them is by beheading. And, yeah, they sleep during the day, but it doesn't mean they won't wake up."

"So I guess walkin' right in is not our best option," Dean said.

"Actually, that's the plan."

John looked at Sam, who looked like he'd been sucking on a lemon. He thought back to what Sam had said about the gun – he'd wanted to know what the big deal was.

"You guys really wanna know about this Colt?"

Sam looked at him, surprised. "Yes, sir."

"It's just a story. A legend, really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter.

"Back in 1835, when Halley's Comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun. It was a special gun, made for a hunter. A man like us, only on horseback. The story goes he made thirteen bullets. This hunter used the gun a half-dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. Somehow, Daniel got his hands on it."

John looked at Sam, who seemed immersed in the story.

"They say this gun can kill anything."

"Like . . . supernatural anything?" Dean asked and John nodded.

"Like the demon."

"Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail, I've been lookin' for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun . . . we may have it."

Done with the story, he told his listeners to get some rest. They would need it when they came up against the vampires.  
\-----  
"So . . . what's the plan again?" Alyson asked from the backseat.

She felt well-rested for once, and was replaying in her mind what John had told them the night before. The vampires would be asleep now because it was light outside, but they could wake up if they needed to. They didn't sleep in coffins like in the movies.

"We need to sneak in and get the Colt," Dean said.

That didn't sound like the best idea to her. A good plan was one in which you were less likely to get killed; this plan was dangerous. If what Dean had researched was right and vampires nested in packs of eight to ten, then they were outnumbered by at least four and at most six.

"This is a really bad idea," she said. "What if the vampires aren't asleep? Or what if they wake up?"

"Then we kill them," Dean said simply.

"Um, hate to burst your bubble, but if they all attack us at the same time we don't stand a chance."

"Stop being pessimistic."

"She's not," Sam said. "She's being realistic."

"Thank you."

At least Sam agreed with her. She knew they both understood where she was coming from even if Dean hadn't said it out loud. But she also knew they had to do this. People were in danger and needed their help.

Plus, they needed that gun. Now that she knew what the gun could be used for, Alyson totally understood John's intense desire to have it.  
\-----  
Dean had followed his dad to the woods near the barn. He parked and got out. He popped the trunk and pulled up the false floor so he could get to his weapons. He saw John let down his tailgate and pull out a whole tray of weapons.

Dean handed both Sam and Alyson a machete. Alyson basically turned her nose up at it, but she took it nonetheless.

"You trust me with this?" she asked.

It was a valid question because they hadn't worked with blades yet. As far as he knew, Aly had never had to use a knife defensively.

"I trust you enough to know you won't hurt one of us with it," he said.

He watched her move her hand around on the hilt of the machete and she seemed comfortable enough with it. She seemed to like this better than a gun, actually.

"Nothin' like a sword, but it'll do," she mumbled.

"What?"

"My school offered fencing as an elective. I took it one year. Of course, our aim wasn't to cut someone's head off."

That being said, Dean nodded. Of course that hadn't been the aim.

"Do you want to wait here? Can you cut someone's head off?"

"Uh . . . if they're tryin to eat me, yeah!"

He grinned at her answer and, without thinking, said, "That's my girl."

Now that everyone had a weapon they made their way to the barn. When they arrived, they had to sneak in through a window that was about four feet above the ground. It was no problem for Sam, Dean, or John, but Alyson needed help.

John went first, then Sam. Dean lifted Alyson up by the waist and she grabbed onto the side of the window sill to pull herself in. When Dean climbed through he realized they all had landed on hay, which was good because it cushioned their footsteps.

Sam was a little ways away, but John was nowhere to be seen. He must have gone off in search of the Colt.

Dean saw at least seven vampires, asleep in hammocks that were spread around the room. They started going further into the room, Dean and Sam ducking under hammocks while Alyson barely bent over at all, such was her shortness.

Sam and Dean were in front of Alyson; Dean hoped that meant the vampires would leave her alone if they woke up while they were there.

Because Dean was more focused on Aly than anything else, he ended up running into a hammock. A whiskey bottle fell from the arms of the vampire sleeping on the hammock.

Dean instinctively readied himself to swing his blade and he watched as Sam did the same. When the vampire in the hammock didn't wake up, they both relaxed and Sam moved on ahead.

A few minutes later, Sam beckoned him over to where he was squatting. A woman had been tied to a post. She was now either asleep or unconscious and she had blood on her clothes and mouth.

Alyson gently touched Dean's arm and he looked at her. She nodded and pointed to somewhere further into the barn. When he followed her gaze, he knew exactly what she'd wanted him to see.

There was a cage with people in it. They were the victims of these vampires. Each person in the cage had bite marks – on their arms or legs, sometimes on their neck.

Not many were awake, but the ones who were didn't make much noise. Dean didn't know if it was because they were weak or if it was because they knew they could be freed soon, but he was thankful either way.

He left Sam with the unconscious woman and went to the cage. It was padlocked and he didn't have time to try and pick it or break it. There was a crowbar hanging from the top of the cage. Dean imagined it had been used to hit at the cage to keep the people from getting too close to the door.

Luckily, the cage seemed to be old because Dean was able to break one of the hinges off of the door.

Alyson, who had followed him to the cage, froze beside him. They had to make sure the sound hadn't alerted any of the sleeping vampires.

A sudden shriek filled the room and it actually sent chills down Dean's spine.

Sam had woken up the sleeping woman, only she wasn't a woman anymore. Her scream had alerted the other vampires, who were now waking up.

"Run!" Dean heard his dad yell from somewhere Dean couldn't see.

Dean didn't want to leave the people in the cage, but he knew it would be stupid to take the time to free them now. Besides, they would probably be safer in the cage, ironically enough. The vampires would probably be too busy chasing after him and the others to worry much about the victims.

With that thought in mind, he began to run.  
\-----  
Alyson almost fell to the ground as she reached the Impala. She'd kept up with Sam and Dean pretty well even if they were taller than her, but it had come with a price. She felt like she was going to faint and throw up at the same time.

She now understood why Dean had said she needed endurance training. She could run and she was fast, but she couldn't run fast for long.

Alyson heard Dean call out for John, who hadn't made it back yet, and she was going to suggest looking for him, but she heard the rustling of leaves.

It was both a blessing and a curse that running through the woods was noisy. In this case, the noise just meant John was on his way; in another circumstance it could have meant an enemy was nearby.

Once John was with them, Alyson said, "Shouldn't we go now? Before they come looking for us?"

"They won't follow. They'll wait 'til tonight. Once a vampire gets your scent, it's for life."

"Lovely," Alyson muttered. That meant that if they didn't get rid of these things that they would have vampires after them for the rest of their lives.

"Did you get the gun?" Sam asked and John shook his head.

"Okay, so what do we do now?" Dean asked.

"You gotta find the nearest funeral home, that's what."

"Um . . . why?"

Alyson looked at Sam and Dean, both of whom looked as confused as she felt. At least it wasn't only her who was lost on this case. Sam and Dean had never come across vampires before either.

"Dead man's blood. It can hurt a vampire. It won't kill them, but it'll make them weak for a while."

"Oh. Naturally," Alyson said and shook her head. John began giving orders again. He told Sam to go with him back to the motel while Dean went to get the blood. He didn't tell Alyson to do anything. He just looked at her.

"I'll go with Dean."

She wouldn't have minded going back to the motel, but she didn't want to be alone with Sam and John. She didn't want to be caught in the middle if they started to fight again.  
\-----  
"I'm sorry for the way my dad's been actin'," Dean said.

They were in the car on the way to the funeral home, which Alyson had found the address of by looking on her phone. It felt weird having someone besides Sammy in the front seat, but Dean figured he might as well get used to it because Aly would be around for a while, at least until she was well-trained.

"It's not your fault. Like you said, he does what he does for a reason. He wants revenge or justice or whatever you wanna call it. It's probably what he wakes up thinkin' about, what he dreams about when he sleeps."

"Yeah." Dean realized he was gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white and had to consciously loosen his hold. "He and Sam never really saw eye-to-eye on that."

"I think . . . Do you wanna know what I think?" Alyson asked self-consciously.

If Dean ever did anything for her, he was going to teach her to not doubt herself. She wasn't insecure in all things, he knew, but when it came to being straightforward with him and Sam she held back sometimes. He knew it had to do with her being scared they would run away and leave her behind.

He guessed she didn't understand that she wasn't the least bit scary.

"Talk to your heart's content," he said. "Only, ya know, not if it's gonna take forever."

"I'm not that talkative," she said, smiling. The smile didn't last long, however, because she started talking again. "I think Sam hunts, but he doesn't like it. He doesn't wanna do it."

"Did he tell you that?"

Dean was well aware that the only reason Sam had started hunting again was because Jessica had died, but had Sam actually said something to Alyson about hating hunting?

He had noticed the bonding that had been going on between Alyson and his brother and even though she was younger than Sam by about five years, he hadn't said anything. Alyson and Sam had things in common. They both loved to learn, they both loved to read, and they were good at research. Dean was honestly happy about having an extra research partner because he hated research, but he was also happy because Sam needed someone he could geek out with.

"I read people easy," Alyson answered his question.

"Oh, really?"

"Mm-hm. Just like I can read that you genuinely like helping people. If you weren't a hunter you would still be in a profession that allowed you to help people.

"You and Sam, and John too, I guess . . . You give up so much of your own life to help people; it's like your happiness doesn't matter to you. You think it's worth it if you save someone. I don't think there's a word that describes what that is."

If Dean hadn't been driving he might have just stopped and stared at her for a while. Nobody had ever talked about him that way, nobody had ever described him the way Alyson had, and nobody had ever made him feel like a hero for doing what he did. He didn't really know how to respond.

"Uh . . ." Now he was the one who was self-conscious. "This conversation never gets back to Sam."

"I would never tell Sam anything you didn't want him to know."

Dean usually kept things inside until he exploded. Sometimes his anger would come out verbally, or, if he was really angry, physically. He would either go to a bar and pick a fight or find a girl and go to bed with her.

Sex relieved stress and Dean usually had a lot of stress.

Alyson, however, seemed to be offering him a place to relieve his feelings. She was offering to be an outlet, of sorts. He could talk to her without the fear of things getting back to Sam.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.  
\-----  
Alyson stayed in the car when they arrived at the funeral home. She was just fine not seeing any more dead bodies for a while. Dean had been in there for ten minutes already and she was getting bored.

She took her phone out of her pocket and began scrolling through her pictures, which ended up being a bad idea. The pictures of her old life were on there. Some of the people she could easily scroll through and not stop, but then she came to pictures of her and Layla.

There were a few of them at a school dance. Other friends were around them, but she and Layla were the centerpiece. They had had fun that night. They had gone together because neither girl had had a date – or, well, technically they had turned down potential dates, so they had gone together.

Looking at pictures of Layla made Alyson want to talk to her. She felt guilty for not calling at all or even thinking of calling, but she had been super busy trying to learn the ropes of being a hunter.

Talking to Layla would make things so much harder, Alyson knew. She missed Layla. Layla had been the one who had helped Alyson live. She'd always been content with staying at home and watching television or just reading. If she hadn't being going to school or to defense training she had been happy not leaving the house.

Layla had always had to beg to get her somewhere. Alyson had always complained, but she also had always given in. She always had fun, too, so she didn't know why she had made Layla beg all the time.

Alyson figured that Layla was probably busy because the girl hadn't tried to call her either. Layla was probably getting ready for college. Higher education had never been on Alyson's top ten list, but she had planned on going with Layla to the community college. She had hoped that she would eventually settle on a profession, but now she would never have that chance.

She would never get the chance to do a lot of things now, things she had taken for granted before. She'd never be able to have a family, she'd never be a mom, and she'd never be able to have friends again – not normal ones, anyway.

A teardrop hit the screen of her phone and she quickly wiped it off and then wiped her face with the back of her hand.

She was so stupid. She knew she shouldn't have looked at the pictures. In fact, she should've deleted them because that wasn't her life now and never would be again.

She was crying more heavily now and as soon as she hit the button that brought up the delete option Dean was back and getting into the car.

"Man, that's some heavy security to protect a bunch of dead guys!" he said before looking at her. When he did, he asked what was wrong and she just shook her head.

Before she knew it, Dean had snatched the phone out of her hands.

"Hey!"

She tried to grab it back, but he was able to grab both of her hands in one of his. That wasn't fair.

Dean looked at the phone and saw the "Delete Photos" option on the screen, and he understood now why she was upset. She had been considering deleting evidence of her old life.

He didn't really know what to say because it was for the best if she left it all behind and started fresh.

"So I guess you're one of us, huh?" he said and received a teary-eyed, half-confused-half-angry look. "Giving up your happiness for the sake of others."

"I'm . . . I don't think I'm one of you."

Dean let go of her hands and gave her the phone back.

"Well, I won't press delete for you, but everything I see says different."

In the end, Dean didn't have to press delete because Alyson did it herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, Alyson and the boys are getting more comfortable around each other, but they still have their issues, obviously. I like that Alyson stood up to John. I also like how Dean was worried John was going to blow up at her.
> 
> Anyway, press the comment button and leave me a line or two - or a paragraph, whatever. I don't mind long reviews and constructive criticism is always welcome!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John accepts Alyson as part of the unit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should note that Alyson went to one of those schools for rich-ish people. They offered fencing and archery and things like that as electives. They might have those at regular schools, but to my knowledge it's only offered at schools where the parents have to pay for their child to go there. If that's not correct, then just assume that for the sake of my story, Alyson went to a high dollar school.

On the way back to the hotel room, which was more a hunting lodge than anything else, Dean and Alyson stopped to get food. They hadn't had a real meal in a day. They'd only had chips and such from gas stations.

Dean got him, Sam, and John burgers and fries; he got Alyson chicken tenders and fries, with a large Coke. He'd noticed she wasn't a burger person – she'd ordered maybe one since she'd been with them and that was only because she'd been really hungry.

When they got to their room, Dean noticed Sam and John seemed to have worked things out, which was good even if it wouldn't last long.

They didn't talk much while they ate. He stole one of Alyson's chicken tenders once he knew she wasn't going to eat all of them. She glared at him anyway and he grinned. He loved messing with her.

After eating, they began coming up with a plan to capture the vampires. Basically, what was going to happen was Dean was going to park on the side of the road alone and pretend he was having car trouble. Since the vampires would definitely be looking for them they would find him – they would know him by his scent, which was weird but true.

Alyson and Sam and John would be close by but out of sight.

"Um . . . one tiny flaw," Alyson said. "Won't they smell us?"

Dean could tell the question was directed at his dad, and he suddenly realized that Alyson would always question anything and everything if she felt the need to. She wasn't scared to tell his dad if he was being stupid or not thinking things through enough. Her question was completely valid.

"Our scents are already on him. They won't be able to differentiate."

"And then what? How do we get the blood in them?"

"Arrows dipped in dead man's blood," Sam explained. "Once the blood is in their system, they'll get weak."

"Then we can stop them and help those people," Dean said.

It wasn't long after that that they put their plan into action.  
\-----  
For the plan to work, Alyson had to ride with Sam and John in John's truck. It wasn't too bad because they didn't argue, but she was smooshed in the middle of the seat.

John was following behind Dean, who had picked the spot out earlier before they'd even left the motel room. They couldn't get too close to the barn because the vampires would know it was a trap.

They eventually pulled off to the side of the road and they all three got out of the truck. They were in a wooded area, trees all around, so they would have no problem finding a place to hide.

John handed the jar of blood to Sam and said, "Get the crossbows out of the back. Start dipping the bolts. I'm gonna hide the truck about a half-a-mile away. I'll be back before sunset."

Sam was tall enough that he didn't have to have the tailgate let down; he just reached over the side of the truck and grabbed two crossbows and the satchel of bolts that went with them. Sam kept one crossbow for himself, but Alyson got the other one. She noticed there were three notches where bolts could be placed. She hoped no more than six vampires showed up. It would take too much time to reload the weapon.

Sam and Alyson walked over to Dean, who was leaning on the hood of his car.

"You okay to shoot that thing?" he asked, gesturing to the crossbow in Alyson's hand.

"Yeah. Archery was an elective at my school. Besides, I kinda think this is the way to prove to John that I'm serious about this."

She still wasn't sure about killing things – even vampires. She knew it had to be done, but she didn't like the thought of killing anything, period. Not to mention, the method by which vampires were killed was horrible.

When it came down to it, she hoped it wouldn't be her who would have to make the final swing.  
\-----  
As promised, John was back by sunset. Sam, Alyson, and Dean were by the Impala. Sam and Alyson both had a crossbow, both already loaded with blood-dipped bolts.

When John tried to take the crossbow from Alyson she refused to let him have it even though it was his weapon.

"I can do it," she said firmly.

"And you won't miss?"

"I won't miss."

"A'right."

The only reason he relented was because Sam also had a crossbow and John knew he wouldn't miss.

John gestured for Sam and Alyson to follow him and they did. Before Alyson moved, however, she warned Dean not to make the vampires too angry.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said.

It was an interesting dynamic, Dean and Alyson. John had been watching Alyson since she'd defended Dean the day before. At first he'd thought she was just being a smart-mouthed teenager, but then he'd realized she'd actually defended Dean out of loyalty and compassion; she hadn't just wanted the last word.

He'd noticed also that when he'd been arguing with Sam the night before she'd intervened because Dean had been in need of support. She hadn't really said much aside from reminding everyone about the people at the barn, but it had been enough. Sam had listened.

Then there had been the flirting. It hadn't been over-the-top or sexual in any way, but it had been there. Dean would steal a fry or a chicken tender and she would glare or slap his hand or even stick her tongue out at Dean.

It was playful – kid flirting - and it was nice. In fact, it was really nice because Dean's face would light up with a grin whenever Alyson took the bait and played along with his flirtations.

John had no problems with Dean and Alyson flirting, but she was very young. She was also in a vulnerable place right now, he thought. Vulnerable enough to mistake hero worship with feelings of love.

He didn't want Dean hurt any more than he already had been. And Dean would be hurt if Alyson decided she'd only had a crush and moved on from one of the men who had saved her. Dean actually liked this girl.

John knew the symptoms; he'd been in love once himself.  
\-----  
Sam, Alyson, and John had only been hidden for about ten minutes when Alyson felt a sudden chill.

"They're coming," she said to Sam, forgetting that John would have no idea how she would know that. She guessed she would have some explaining to do after this was over.

John seemed to be searching for the vampires since Alyson had said they were coming. He then looked at her suspiciously and she gave a small shrug in response.

"I'll explain later," she said, promise in her voice.

They all looked at Dean then, who had popped the hood and was now leaning over the engine and pretending something was wrong with it. A woman – a vampire – had shown up. She was wearing a black short-sleeved shirt on top of a white long-sleeved shirt. She had a jean jacket vest and blue jeans on.

She looked like a rocker chick; maybe she'd been in a metal band before she'd died.

Dean and the vampire began talking; he must've said the wrong thing because he was suddenly being hit. The force knocked him to the ground.

Another vampire, this one male, came up behind the woman, who was now grabbing Dean around the throat with one hand. She actually lifted him off the ground.

Alyson gasped at the display of strength. This woman was extremely strong. It shouldn't have surprised her; the woman was a vampire.

The woman vampire began to molest Dean's mouth and Alyson felt her stomach tighten in disgust. She brought her crossbow up and aimed at the woman. She let loose a bolt and it hit the vampire in her chest.

Dean was dropped to the ground. The two vampires looked annoyed, but they didn't seem hurt at all. Had John gotten something wrong about the blood? She had shot the woman and Sam had shot the male, but they were still standing.

John, who had been holding a machete ever since he'd gotten back from hiding the truck, led Sam and Alyson out of their spot and they began going towards Dean.

The vampires were aware of their presence now and the woman made a comment about the bolt barely even stinging.

"Give it time, sweetheart," John said. "That arrow's soaked in dead man's blood. It's like poison to you, isn't it?"

The male was the first to fall down. He was on his knees in front of John. The other one fell backward into Dean, who was on his feet now.

"Load her up," John ordered. "I'll take care of this one."

Dean picked the woman up and carried her to the car, where he placed her in the backseat and then shut the door behind him.

"She's unconscious."

Sam touched Alyson's arm and she looked up at him. He gestured for him to follow him and then looked at his dad. John had his machete raised in the air. Alyson then knew why Sam wanted her away. He didn't want her seeing this vampire getting decapitated.

She didn't want to see that either, so she turned away and they both began walking to the car. She could still hear what happened. She heard the whoosh of the blade slicing through air and the blood splattering on the ground.

She shuddered as they reached Dean, who gave her his 'are you okay' look. She nodded and shrugged at the same time.

"Just glad I didn't see."

A few minutes later John was there alongside them and began cleaning his blade off. Alyson did her best not to see that too.

"We need to get to the truck. I have some stuff that should cover our scents."

John and Sam climbed onto the backseat and Alyson got in the front with Dean. She really didn't mind that arrangement. What if the vampire woke up or something? She wouldn't know what to do, but John and Sam would, and they would be able to take care of it.  
\-----  
"So, who shot the Dracu-babe back there?" Dean asked.

"Me," Alyson said.

"Good shot," he praised.

"Told you I wouldn't miss," she said as she looked back. Dean knew that must've been for his dad.

His dad, however, seemed preoccupied with something else. He had a set look to his face and Dean knew that meant that whatever John was worried about was something they needed to face now.

"How did you know they were coming before they got there?"

Dean was driving so he couldn't help Alyson with this. She must've said something to Sam without thinking about it and his dad had caught on.

"I can sort of sense when something supernatural is around. I have supernatural radar or something."

"Is that why the demon's after you?"

Dean heard the harshness of his dad's voice and could feel the tension coming from Alyson.

"We don't know," Sam said. "All we know is that she's supposed to be inherently good. That would be a good reason for the demon to want someone dead, right?"

"That would be a good reason for a lot of demons to want someone dead." John's voice had lost its edge. "Once word gets around, she's gonna be in a lot of danger."

"My mom left me a letter," Alyson said and then told John of the priest that had come to see her mother after Alyson had been born. She also told him of the things her mom had written about the crazy things she would be able to do. Her mom had used the word amazing, but Dean guessed crazy worked too.

"I guess sensing supernatural beings is one of them."

"What do you mean sense them?"

"I get the chills and I get shaky sometimes."

Dean pulled behind his dad's truck and they all got out of the car. John tied the vampire to the tree and then gestured for them to gather around the truck. He lowered the tailgate and pulled out a case, which he then began digging through.

John produced a bag from the case and handed the bag to Dean.

"Make a fire and toss this in it."

"What is it?" Alyson asked.

"Saffron, skunk cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scents and hers until we're ready."

Dean opened the bag and sniffed. "This stuff stinks."

He heard Sam chuckled and saw Alyson roll her eyes.

"Um . . . usually if you hear the word 'skunk' in any context, it doesn't lead to smelling good."

Dean chose to ignore Aly's comment and instead began working on building a fire. It wasn't that hard. He just got some wood together and used a very small amount of lighter fluid to get the flames going and waited for the fire to get hot enough before dumping the bags' contents into the fire.

Alyson suddenly covered her nose and mouth with the top of her shirt, and Sam seemed to be holding his breath.

"Dust your clothes with the ashes and you'll stand a chance at not being detected."

"You sure they'll come after her?" Sam asked, gesturing to the vampire.

"Yeah. Vampires mate for life. She means more to the leader than the gun. The blood sickness is gonna wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time to get those people out."

"Half-hour oughta do it," Sam said.

The contents from the bag had turned to ash, so Dean put the fire out by smothering it and then proceeded to gather up the ashes.

"I'm so gonna need a shower," he muttered and began smudging his clothes.

They were all going to need a shower, or so his nose told him.  
\-----  
Once Sam and Alyson were covered with the ashes, the stinky stuff was passed to John, who didn't cover himself with it.

"I want you out of the area as fast as you can."

Alyson knew then that John had never planned on staying with them or letting them help at all. He was going to take the vampire and lure the others to him.

"Dad, you can't take care of them all yourself," Dean said.

"I'll have her," John said and looked at the vampire, "and the Colt."

"But after . . . We're gonna meet up, right?" Sam asked. "Use this gun together, right?"

John's not answering was answer enough.

"You're leaving again, aren't you? You still wanna go after the demon alone?"

"I'm trying to keep you safe."

"Dad, all due respect, but that's a bunch of crap," Dean said.

Sam and John seemed surprised, but Alyson was mentally applauding Dean. Dean had stood up to John, and maybe Alyson just had Daddy issues due to the lack of having her own dad around when she'd been growing up, but she didn't much like the way John treated his boys. Someone needed to call BS once in a while and it didn't always have to be Sam.

"You know what Sammy and I have been huntin'," Dean said. "You sent us on a few huntin' trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe."

"It's not the same thing, Dean."

"Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?"

"This demon? It's bad. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive." John looked at the ground and spoke again. "Look, I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Mary's death . . . it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't."

"But what happens if you die? Dad, what happens if you die and we could've done somethin' about it." Dean moved closer to his Dad and continued. "I think maybe Sammy's right about this one. I think we should do this together."

John was silent for a moment, but then he shook his head. "We're running out of time. You do your job and then get out of the area. That's an order."

John walked away from his sons once again. Alyson had a feeling that a lot of Sam's and Dean's memories of John had to do with him walking away.

The last memory Alyson had of her dad was of him walking away as well. She didn't want that for Sam or Dean, so they needed to come up with a plan to save the people at the barn and come back to help John whether he liked it or not.  
\-----  
By the time the people from the barn were saved, another vampire had been killed. That was another two down. Aside from the people being scared half to death, they all seemed okay. They, of course, were suffering from blood loss, but none of them were dying.

Once back at the car Alyson said, "We should go find your dad. We need to make sure he's okay."

Dean's shoulders slumped in relief. He was glad he hadn't had to say it out loud. He wanted to go after his dad, but he didn't want to voice his concern.

Neither Dean nor Sam said anything; they just got in the car with Alyson. Sam had a machete, and Alyson and Dean had the crossbows. She took Dean's from him and loaded both up with blood-tipped bolts.

Dean started the car and began driving. They didn't have to go far; they stopped near the spot John had last been. If John had wanted to draw the vampires to him, he wouldn't have moved much.

He parked the car about a quarter of a mile from where Dean knew his dad would be and they walked the rest of the way. It was easier to sneak up on people without the noise of a car.

By the time they found John, he was on the ground by his truck. Like Dean had thought, his dad hadn't gone anywhere. The window to the truck had been smashed and John was lying in the glass. There were four other vampires besides the one Alyson had shot earlier. There were two girls and two guys. Alyson shot one of the girls; Dean shot one of the guys.

That was how they made their presence known.

Sam raised his blade to take one of them out, but the unwounded guy hit Sam, which knocked him to the ground. Sam dropped his machete and the vampire grabbed him, brought Sam to his feet, and started choking him.

Dean grabbed the blade from the ground, but before he could do any damage the vampire said, "Don't, or I'll break his neck. Put the blade down."

Dean could tell that Sam was desperately trying to get some air in his lungs. Because Dean's instinct was to always protect Sam, he gave in and the machete clattered on the ground.

"You people. Why can't you just leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do."

"Not when you're killing people," Alyson muttered.

Dean saw his dad get up off the ground with the gun in his hands. Some of the weight lifted from Dean's chest. At least his dad was okay. His dad would make everything okay now; he had the gun that could save Sam.

The vampires, however, had their backs to John so they had no clue. The leader seemed to be more interested in suffocating Sam, anyway, or he had been until Alyson had spoken. Now he was interested in her.

"You seem interesting. Once these two are dead, we might keep you."

Dean was about to object when John said, "I don't think so."

The vampire jerked around, dragging Sam with him. John shot the vampire in the middle of his forehead and Sam was able to work himself free. Sam had blood on his cheek from being so close to the vampire when he'd been shot.

Everyone watched as the vampire fell to his knees. There was a flash of light and then he was flat on the ground not moving at all.

The two vampires that were left dragged the dead vampire's mate away even though she was glaring murderously at John. He had killed her mate, so of course she'd be furious.

Sam beheaded the one with the poison in his system, and Dean saw Alyson flinch and look away. Sam was obviously fine, seeing as to how he was decapitating vampires, and Alyson seemed fine even if she was disgusted by the execution method.

Earlier, Sam had protected her from seeing John decapitate someone, but after having been choked he'd probably done it without thinking.

Dean was still caught up on the fact that the gun actually worked. They had a way to kill the demon now. There would always be other things to hunt, other people to help, but with this gun they could put their main demon to rest – they could actually kill the thing.

"Okay, you three head back to the car. The vampires won't go back to the barn, so you don't have to worry about that."

"Meet back at the motel?" Sam asked.

John hesitated but eventually nodded. "I'm gonna hide the bodies somewhere in the woods, but I'll be there in a couple hours."

They just had to take on faith that he was telling the truth.  
\-----  
When John got back to the motel, he saw that the three had already packed up so they could leave in the morning. They all looked at him when he stepped into the room.

He'd done some thinking while he'd been disposing of the bodies of the two vampires. He'd been done for before Sam, Dean, and Alyson had come for him.

"So . . . you ignored a direct order back there."

"But we saved your life," Dean said.

John didn't know where Dean was getting his attitude from, but he figured it might have to do with the smiling girl beside his eldest son. She was looking down, trying to hide her grin, but John could still see her upturned lips.

"You're right," John said, surprising both of his boys. "It scares me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family, so we go after this thing together."

"Yes, sir," Sam and Dean said in unison.

"And Alyson stays," Dean added.

"Of course she does," John said, smiling slightly.

Alyson could make Dean happy. John wasn't going to take away Dean's chance at happiness.

John knew Dean would never have a normal life even though he wanted that for both Sam and Dean, but that didn't mean they couldn't find love and happiness.  
\-----  
That night Alyson didn't sleep that well. For one, she couldn't get the sight of Sam decapitating the vampire out of her mind. It had been necessary, of course, but it had also been a sight she could've done without.

For two: John was cleaning the machetes and sharpening them. The metallic hiss the blade made was unnerving and made sleep almost impossible. She didn't know how Sam and Dean had fallen asleep so fast.

Maybe they were just so used to noises like that that it didn't bother them anymore.

Alyson sighed and sat up and John looked at her.

"This keepin' you awake?"

"A little," she said and smiled. "Doesn't matter. Can you teach me how to do that?"

"You want me to teach you?"

"Sure."

John was seated at the table, so she went and sat with him. He did not let her sharpen one of the machetes; he gave her a small knife to start with. Things were silent as he taught her how to sharpen the small blade.

Once she was able to do it on her own, without instruction, he began speaking.

"I wasn't always Drill Sergeant Winchester, you know."

"Never said you were, but Dean loves that car and you had no right to tell him he was ruining it."

Alyson didn't say much after that because she wasn't the small talk type. She said what she wanted to say and then left it alone.

She went about sharpening the blade John had given her for a few minutes, but then she messed up.

"Crap," she hissed. She had sliced her finger open; apparently, she hadn't been holding the sharpener right.

She saw blood come out of the top of her pointer finger and she dropped the sharpener to the floor. She put her finger to her mouth and eased the pain with her tongue.

John had reacted immediately; he went to his bag and grabbed a first aid kit. She wondered if he always carried one with him.

"You don't need to do that," she said, after taking her finger out of her mouth. The cut was no longer there.

"We don't want it to get infected," John said. He hadn't even looked at her finger yet.

"It won't." She showed him where the wound had been and when he saw that the skin was clear of any blemish at all he just stared at her.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Alyson Daniels. High school graduate. And until about a month ago, I was completely normal."

To avoid having to explain everything to him, Alyson just let him read the letter her mother had left her. She had explained everything she knew earlier, but the letter would explain things better than she ever could.  
\-----  
As John was reading through the letter Alyson had given him he couldn't help but feel amazed. No, he'd never heard of anything good that could do what Alyson did – healing herself within the blink of an eye – but if what he was reading was true, then she would someday be a great asset.

The girl already had guts even if she didn't seem to know it. She'd never have been able to put him in his place if she was spineless. She was pretty good with a crossbow and she hadn't thrown up or anything when she'd seen Sam slice the head off of the vampire earlier.

She hadn't liked it, but . . . she'd dealt with it. She was willing to learn about hunting, probably as a way of honoring her mother, but the point was that she wasn't running scared.

"How old are you? You said you graduated."

"I'm seventeen."

"Hm, what have you been helping the boys with?"

She smiled slightly and blushed. "Research mostly. I'm pretty good at that."

"Bet Dean's relieved," John remarked.

"He does seem better at the practical stuff. He's got a great memory, though."

"He's also trying to sleep," Dean's voice mumbled from his spot on the bed.

John watched as Alyson's cheeks turned even redder before she giggled. They had both thought Dean was asleep.

"Sorry," she said. "We won't talk as loud."

"No, you won't," Dean said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "You should be going to sleep."

"Can't. Still getting over the fact that vampires are real."

"Dean's right. You should sleep. I won't sharpen anything else."

As if on cue, Alyson yawned and Dean grinned.

"I think you'll be okay," he said. "You'll probably be dead to the world in two minutes, tops."

John watched in mild amusement when Alyson hopped up from her chair only to shove Dean back to a laying position. She quickly went to her side of the bed and got under the covers.

John figured he should get some sleep too since he hadn't the night before. If they were going to start looking for that demon, they would all need to gather their strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't particularly have a favorite scene in this chapter, but I like bits and pieces of it all. Mostly, I like John's observations about Alyson.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone grows a little closer.

Alyson woke up the next morning around eight and saw that nobody else was in bed. Sam and John were at the one table in the room drinking coffee. Dean wasn't in the room at all.

"Where's Dean?" she asked. "Is he getting breakfast?"

Sam shook his head. "He's cleaning the car."

"Hm." Alyson looked at John and got up. "I'm gonna go see if he needs help."

She grabbed a pair of shorts that were in her bag and went to the bathroom to change. The shorts were just cutoff jeans and they were good just to do whatever in. She left the T-shirt on in which she'd slept.

When she got outside she immediately saw Dean with a bucket of water with suds on the top. He was using a sponge to wash the hood of his car.

"Need help?" she asked pleasantly. "Or, do you want help, I should say."

"I don't have anything else to wash with," he replied. "You can rinse when I'm done. There's a hose over there. The owner wanted fifteen dollars just to let me use the spigot there."

Alyson rolled her eyes. Of course the owner did. Water should've been free, but she guessed not.

Once Dean got done with the hood of the Impala he gestured for her to rinse it off. Alyson knew Dean was doing this only because of what John had told him. He didn't seem to be enjoying himself at all, so when Alyson turned around she placed her finger over the stream of water and sprayed it in Dean's direction.

Dean's T-shirt was soaked because she'd actually surprised him. Maybe she was turning into a ninja.

"Oh, I said spray the car, not me!" Dean semi-yelled, but Alyson could tell he wasn't actually angry. He was even smiling a little.

"I didn't know you two were separate entities," she quipped, now turning her attention to the hood of the car.

"You're funny," he deadpanned.

Dean was on his guard for the rest of the time he was washing, so Alyson knew she wouldn't be able to pull another one on him. She didn't need to, anyway, because Dean was no longer tense, and he was smiling. She could just do her job and rinse.

Finally, Dean was done washing the last part and Alyson was able to rinse it. She followed the length of the hose to the spigot and turned it off for the last time.

"I was thinking we should have target practice again," she said and headed back to the car. "It may come down to me having to use the Colt and I don't want to chance missing."

The good thing about the Colt was that it was a smaller gun, not like a shotgun, which would probably knock her on her butt.

"Good idea. Sam and I will take you when we get settled in wherever we're going next."

Dean picked the bucket up and Alyson watched as he seemed to think about where the best place to dump it would be. She recognized the look he gave her; it was the same mischievous look he'd given her when they'd been sparring and he'd known he'd won.

"No," she said and began backing away.

She had just enough time to take three steps before he threw the soapy water at her. She was thankful that he'd had the presence of mind not to throw it at her face, but she was still soaked.

"Dean!" she yelled, though, like him, she wasn't actually angry. She was just glad she didn't have on a white shirt.

"Hey, turnabout's fair play," he said, putting the bucket back on the ground.

Alyson began ringing the ends of her hair out and she was surprised when Dean cuffed her on the chin. She looked up and saw a serious expression on his face. His eyes were guarded but sincere.

"Thanks," he said, "for helping with my car."

Alyson shrugged as if it were no big deal. "She's important to you."

"Yes, but still. It's something you didn't have to do, so thank you."

Again she shrugged, uncomfortable with the thanks. She helped people do things; that was how she showed she cared.

She could tell her face was red because her cheeks were warm. She really wasn't used to guys being grateful to her for anything. And Dean wasn't just any guy; he was one of the guys who had saved her life. The way she saw it, she couldn't do enough to help him or Sam; she would never really be able to pay them back.

"Lighten up," Dean said. "All I did was say thank you."

His words made her see how silly she was being and she found herself grinning.

"You're welcome."

Dean had to take all the supplies he'd borrowed from the person working the front desk back inside, so Alyson went back to the motel room. Both John and Sam looked at her when she got inside. John barely spared her a glance; he seemed to be going through some papers that had been in a file folder. Sam, however, was grinning.

"So did the car even get washed?"

"Yes," Alyson muttered and wrapped her arms around herself. It was now really cold in the room since she was wet. "It's freezing in here."

"Maybe if you hadn't decided to bathe outside and then come in here to the air-conditioned room . . ."

"Yeah, yeah."

Alyson went to grab some more clothes from her bag and then went to the bathroom to shower and change.  
\-----  
A few days later, after they had settled into another town and another motel room, Dean made good on his promise to take Alyson target practicing again. Sam was with them, which Dean was grateful for because whenever he and Aly were alone with each other things usually became uncomfortable for at least one of them.

Alyson was getting better at aiming now. She was averaging about four out of every six targets now. She didn't complain as much about practicing now that she was doing better; she even seemed to have more confidence in herself with the gun, which was good. She had less of a chance of messing up by making a stupid mistake now.

Sam, Dean, and Alyson had left John at the motel. He had been working on something dealing with the yellow-eyed demon. John had showed them a folder containing articles from newspapers and printouts from websites. Dean guessed maybe his dad had wanted to put them in order. Sometimes it helped if he put things in chronological order; it was easier to spot patterns that way.

Dean could remember very well that John usually taped to the wall all evidence of a case. It helped when you could see everything in front of you.

Dean wondered what patterns his dad had found with the demon they were hunting. To be completely honest, Dean was surprised his dad was still there. He'd seen John walk away from him and Sam more times than he wanted to admit.

On the way back from target practice, they stopped at KFC to get a bucket of chicken and some mashed potatoes. Alyson ordered extra biscuits, and when Dean looked at her she shrugged innocently.

"What? The biscuits are the best part!"

"The chicken is the best part," Dean contradicted only to have Sam say the potatoes were the best.

"Even if they are instant," Sam quipped.  
\-----  
John was just finishing putting up all the information he had on the demon he'd been hunting for twenty-two years. He didn't really know much, and definitely not as much as he wanted to know. What he did know was that the thing was excellent at destroying families.

Some of the papers he'd been pinning to the wall had his own writing on them; they were just random notes or thoughts he'd put together on the many nights he hadn't been able to sleep. Other pieces of paper had symbols and other things he'd come across searching for the demon. There were summoning rituals and things like that. Sam and Dean would know about them; Alyson, however, would not.

Once his boys and Alyson got back – with food, he was grateful to see – he set up the laptop at the one table in the room. Alyson and Dean ate on the bed, and Sam and John ate at the table.

John decided they could eat in peace. John guessed he owed his boys that. He couldn't count how many meals he'd missed when Sam and Dean had been growing up, but he knew he'd missed more than enough. He'd left Dean in charge of raising Sam; he didn't blame Sam for butting heads with him all the time.

This little bit of peace they could have was something his boys deserved. John wouldn't take it away.  
\-----  
When Alyson got done eating, the first thing she did was ask John about the papers on the wall. There was barely a blank space. The walls were filled with maps, newspaper articles, book pages, and photographs.

"So what is all this?" She had tried to out-wait Sam and Dean but had become impatient. Chances were they already knew what everything was about, anyway.

"This is everything I know," John said, gesturing at the walls. The past twenty-two years I've been searching for this demon, right? Not a trace – just nothing . . . until about a year ago. For the first time, I picked up a trail."

"That's when you took off," Dean said.

Sam stood up from his spot at the table and began pacing the length of the room. Dean looked at Sam, worried, while Alyson asked another question.

"If he was quiet all this time, what changed? I mean . . . does this thing hibernate or what?"

What had made this demon come after her now? Why hadn't it come for her before? It would've had many opportunities in the past years; neither her mother or herself would've had any protection against him.

"That's my best guess," John said. "The demon must've come out of hiding or hibernation."

"A'right, so what's the trail you found?" Dean asked and Sam stopped to stare at John.

"It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses were burning to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us."

"Families with infants?" Sam asked, voice strained.

"Yeah. The night the kid turns six-months-old."

"I was six-months-old that night?"

"Exactly six months."

"So, basically, this demon is goin' after these kids for some reason, the same way it came for me? So Mom's death, Jessica . . . it's all 'cause of me?"

"We don't know that, Sam," Dean said firmly.

"Oh, really? 'Cause I'd say we're pretty sure, Dean."

Alyson could feel the tension between Sam and Dean. Sam's voice was filled with sadness and self-loathing, and Dean wanted so much to take that away, to make everything better. That was Dean's job – Alyson knew that was how Dean saw it. Dean had raised Sam; in many ways Sam wasn't just a kid brother – he was also like a child. Dean was more his father than John had ever been.

"Sam, what happened to them wasn't your fault," Alyson said. "If their deaths are your fault, then my mom's death is my fault and you won't let me blame myself for that."

"Neither of you should blame yourself," John said, earning a sigh from Sam.

"Okay, so it's not my fault, but it is my problem."

"No, it's not your problem, it's our problem!" Dean exclaimed.

Alyson was quick to agree. She wasn't so keen on working with John, but she had bonded with both Sam and Dean already. The fact that they all were working towards a common goal helped strengthen that bond. Dean was right. If the demon messed with one of them, it messed with all of them.

Sam had started to pace again, his agitation making him act like a caged animal. There seemed to be barely contained rage in Sam that Alyson had never seen before.

"So why is it doing it? What does it want?"

John shook his head and stood up, too, blocking Sam's pace back toward him.

"I wish I had more answers, I do. But I've always been one step behind it, and I've never gotten there in time to save . . . anyone."

"How do we find it before it hits again?" Dean asked.

"There are signs. It took me a while to see the pattern, but in the days before these fires signs crop up in an area. Cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms."

Alyson didn't know about cattle deaths or temperature fluctuations, but there had definitely been more rain and storms the week leading up to the demon's appearance at her house.

"These things happened in Lawrence," Dean said. "And in San Francisco."

"And in Palo Alto, before Jessica," John put in, "and these signs . . . they're starting again."

"Where?" Sam asked, determination lacing his voice.

Alyson hadn't known Sam for long, but she could tell he had murder on his mind, if one could actually murder a demon. Alyson wasn't sure what exactly demons were considered. Were they considered entities or, like she believed, did they take possession of a person and work through them?

"The signs are popping up again in Salvation, Iowa," John said. "It'll take about a day to get there, so I was thinking we should leave tonight after we get everything packed."

This was one of the things Alyson had a hard time getting used to. She'd never been much of a traveler. She and her mom hadn't wanted to go anywhere. Her mother had gotten her traveling out of her system before she'd had Alyson, and had settled down when she'd become a mother.  
\-----  
As Alyson packed her stuff, what little she had, she kept thinking about what Sam had said earlier. What did the demon want? Obviously the demon wanted something from both Sam and her. The thing had already messed up her life and the Winchester's lives. Hadn't it done enough?

"You're awfully quiet," Sam said. He had been packing, too, but now seemed to be done. "What're you thinkin' about?"

"You haven't said a word since we found out where we were goin'," Dean said. He'd obviously been eavesdropping.

"What if we don't get there in time?" she muttered, but it was loud enough for all three men to hear. Even John stopped what he was doing so he could face her.

"We have plenty of time," Sam said, though Alyson could tell Sam was burdened by the same thought.

He had just as much, if not more, stock in finding this demon. It still helped that Sam was trying to comfort her, and she tried to convince herself that it was true. If they went in thinking it was a lost cause, they probably wouldn't try as hard.

She was also really worried about the fact that she was a newbie hunter. What if she got in the way? Or what if it came down to only her and the demon? How would she survive that?

"I just thought I would have more time, ya know?" she almost whispered, her voice was so low. "I didn't think it would be so soon, and I haven't been able to learn much of anything. I mean, I can barely shoot a gun, okay?"

"You did fine last time," Dean said. "Besides, you won't be alone."

"But she could be," John said. "That's what she means . . . isn't it?"

He'd said the last part when he was looking at her, and she'd never felt so grateful for someone understanding her so quickly.

"What if something happens to you guys?" she asked. "I mean, really, you guys are the only thing keeping me alive right now."

She knew that sounded selfish, but it was true. She had come to care about Sam and Dean, but she also cared about herself. She hadn't been taught enough to survive on her own in this new world she'd opened her eyes to.

"We have years of experience," Sam said. "We have the Colt. We can beat this thing."

Alyson nodded, but she still wasn't quite convinced. Demons, from what she'd read about them, were supposed to be ancient things – like from the time of the-fall-of-Lucifer ancient.

If that were the case, it didn't matter how many years of experience the Winchesters had; the demon could outsmart them any day.  
\-----  
By the time they reached Salvation, Iowa, John had received some bad news. He had pulled to the side of the road and Dean had pulled up behind him.

Dean watched as his dad got out of his truck and hit the side of it with his fist. He seemed to scream into the air at nothing in particular. Something had to be wrong.

Dean got out of the Impala and Sam and Alyson followed suit.

"What is it?" he asked, moving closer to his dad.

"I just got a call from Caleb," John answered.

Caleb was an informant of John's and also someone he had trusted enough to care for Sam and Dean once or twice when it had been needed.

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine, but Jim Murphy is dead."

"Pastor Jim?" Sam asked. "How?"

Dean remembered Jim even more than he remembered Caleb. He had watched over him and Sam quite a few times. He had read them Bible stories when they stayed with him. Sam had eaten it all up; Dean didn't remember much. He remembered Jesus and what he'd preached – he seemed like an okay dude – but all that holier-than-thou God stuff . . . not so much.

"Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place. His throat was slashed and he bled out."

"A demon," Alyson whispered. Dean thought she'd probably been talking to herself, but she was close enough for him to hear.

"The demon?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. It could be he just got careless and he slipped up," John said, "or maybe the demon knows we're getting close."

"What d'you wanna do?"

"Now we act like every second counts," John said without hesitation. "There are two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, we cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's gonna be six months old in the next week."

"Dad, that could be dozens of kids," Sam said. "How are we gonna know which one is the right one?"

"We'll check 'em all, that's how." John looked at Sam. "You got any better ideas?"

"No, sir."

Neither John nor Sam were being confrontational. They were on the same page. Dean knew if there was a quicker way to do this, his dad would be all for it, but there wasn't and Sam knew that.

John opened the driver's side door to his truck but hesitated to get in.

"This ends," he said firmly. "I'm ending it; I don't care what it takes."

"If it was the demon . . . it won't stop with just one person," Alyson said gently. "It'll keep going after the people you care about."

Dean didn't know who she was talking to because when he looked at her she wasn't looking at any of them; she was actually looking at the ground. She probably felt out of place here with them talking about someone she hadn't known, or – more precisely – the death of someone she hadn't known.

"A'right, let's just find some place to stay first," Dean said, easily falling into his leadership role – at least with the two he was standing with. "We can divvy out duties there. Is that okay?"

Alyson and Sam nodded. When he looked to John, who was getting in the truck now, he said, "Pick a place. We'll follow you."  
\-----  
"Whenever we have to separate on a case we always pick the first decently priced motel in the local phonebooks," Dean explained.

"We've been staying in slightly pricier rooms," Sam said. "For you."

Alyson smiled gratefully but then got back to business. They had settled into a room, all four of them had. John had opted to take one of the hospitals in Salvation; Dean would take the other one. That left the medical center for Sam and Alyson. All four of them were going to go through the birth records of babies who would be turning six months old in the next week.

Dean dropped Sam and Alyson off at the medical center, where they found three huge file folders to go through. By the time they got done they had the babies' names, the parents' names, and the addresses that were given at the time of birth.

They handed the files back to a woman working at the nurse's station and then they left.

"I can't believe that actually worked," Alyson said and scoffed. They had said they were working with an organization that awarded people with gifts when their children turned six months old.

"Most people can't be bothered to be suspicious," Sam said, beginning to rub his temples.

"Sam? You okay?"

"There's a woman," he said.

"What? Sam, there's no one here but me."

She didn't know what was going on, but he had now stopped walking completely, and was holding his head as if he thought it would fall off if he didn't.

"There's a train . . ."

Finally it clicked. He was having a vision. Sam was seeing something that wasn't there and he was obviously in pain, and all she could do was stand there like an idiot because she didn't know what else to do. She had half a mind to call Dean, but she didn't want to interrupt him if he was busy. These babies were important too.

Sam had stopped holding his head now; she hoped that meant the worst was over. Maybe she wouldn't have to call Dean.

"You okay? For a minute there I thought your head was gonna explode."

"Yeah, that's what it felt like."

Sam pulled out a map of the town from his pocket; it only took about two seconds to find what he was looking for.

"Grace Avenue. That's not too far from here. Come on."

He grabbed her arm and she didn't yank it back. She didn't question him about the street name; she just trusted he knew what he was talking about. She basically had to run to keep up with him.

"Sam, those headaches . . . are they normal? I mean, do you always have them when . . ."

"Only when I'm awake, which doesn't happen a lot."

"They usually come in dreams." She remembered him telling her about the visions when they first met. It was how he and Dean had known to come for her.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Not a lot. The pain lingers, but it's not so bad. Just like a dull headache."

They reached Grace Avenue and Sam stopped walking, stopped dragging her along.

"This is it," Sam said and gestured to a two-story white house. It wasn't an off-white either; it was a perfect white.

"And that's her."

Sam pointed to a woman who was pushing her baby in a stroller. Alyson's intuition or whatever one called it kicked in: Sam's visions had something to do with the yellow-eyed demon. The demon was going to go after someone in Salvation, and it was known for going after babies. This woman had a baby.

"How much you wanna bet that baby's turning six months old soon?" she asked.

"Well, let's go see."

They walked over to the woman and her baby just to say hi and to see if she would offer up any information.

"Hey," she responded. She was friendly and Alyson liked her right away.

The baby in the stroller was wearing pink so Alyson assumed the baby was a girl.

"She's gorgeous. Is she yours?"

"Yeah."

The truth was Alyson had never been around kids, so she wasn't sure how to act around them, and she had never really been dead set on having any of her own either. Maybe it was because she was only seventeen, but they just seemed like too much trouble to have. She still thought babies were cute, however.

"Oh, wow," Sam said. "I'm rude. I'm sorry. My name is Sam, and this is my sister, Alyson. We just moved in up the block."

Alyson smiled, trying to appear natural even though she was beginning to doubt her acting skills, which she didn't have much of to begin with.

"I'm Monica," the woman said. "This is Rosie."

Alyson squatted down so she could see Rosie better. She ran her finger over Rosie's open hand and the baby squeezed it. It caused Alyson to smile even brighter and think that maybe babies were okay.

"Welcome to the neighborhood," Monica said.

"Thank you," Sam and Alyson said in unison.

"She's such a good baby," Sam complimented.

"I know. I mean, she never cries. She just stares at everybody."

Rosie was staring and making baby smiles at Alyson. Most babies didn't do well with people they didn't know – maybe it was only because her mom was there with them.

"Sometimes she looks at you and it's like she's reading your mind."

Alyson looked up from her squatting position. "Babies can be very perceptive to the people around them."

"Have you lived here long?" Sam asked.

"My husband and I bought our place just before Rosie was born."

"And how old is Rosie?"

"She's six months today."

Alyson stood back up, her knees popping as she went. She left her finger in Rosie's hand.

"It's big, right? She's growin' like a weed."

"Yeah."

Alyson felt her throat tighten as she realized this mother was in danger as was Rosie. The demon didn't seem to go after dads so she assumed that meant Monica's husband was safe.

"Monica?"

"Yeah?"

"Just, um . . . just take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah. You too, Sam. We'll see you around."

"Definitely," Alyson said, gently pulling her finger from Rosie's hand. She grabbed Sam's wrist and tugged so he would follow her. They needed to head back to the medical center so they could meet Dean there when he came to pick them up.

Halfway there Sam had another vision, only this one seemed worse. He couldn't respond when she called his name and he fell to his knees because the pain was so bad in his head.

This time she didn't hesitate to call Dean. She didn't want to be held responsible if something bad happened to Sam.  
\-----  
"What's up?" Dean answered when he saw it was Aly's number on his ID screen.

"Are you busy?" she asked, and Dean could hear panic and desperation in her voice.

"I was. I'm done now." Even if he had been busy, he would've dropped everything because he could tell something was wrong. Alyson had her weaker moments, but she didn't freak out over nothing.

"Okay, well . . ." Her voice had lowered. "Sam had a vision about this woman. She has a baby that turned six months old today."

"Well, do you know who she is?" Dean asked urgently.

"Her name is Monica. We just talked to her. Her baby's name is Rosie and we know where they live."

"Where are you? I'm comin' to get you." He was already headed to his car.

"Just off of Grace Avenue; it's near the train tracks."

"Okay. Watch Sam, okay?"

"Okay . . . but I don't really know what I'm supposed to do."

"Just stay with him. There's not much you can do. I'll be there shortly."

Dean hated telling Alyson that there was nothing she could do. She was a take-action type of person and to tell someone like that that there's really nothing they can do can make them feel helpless. Dean felt that way every time Sam had a vision. He knew Sam felt pain and that it would pass, but he still hated what the visions did to his brother.

As Dean started the Impala he dialed his dad's number; John needed to know that he could stop looking for the next victim, that Sam had already figured it out.

He so wasn't looking forward to how his dad was going to react to Sam's ability.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

The first thing Sam did when he got back to the motel was get some Excedrin and then lay down for a few minutes. He told what he knew to Dean while they waited for their dad to get back.

The headaches really took it out of him – he could probably deal with the visions if it weren't for the pain that came with them. They were useful when they came in time to actually help someone.

A few minutes later, John walked in and Sam sat back up even though he was still in pain. John looked at him, concerned yet impatient.

"Okay, what happened?"

Sam explained the vision he'd had and how he and Alyson had talked to Monica, the woman from his vision.

"A vision?" John seemed stunned.

Sam felt relieved by that. Sam loved his dad, but John was known for holding his secrets close to his chest. If John had known about Sam's visions before now, he hadn't said anything to them about it. By John's reaction, though, he didn't know anything and Sam felt he was being sincere.

"I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

He hadn't told Alyson about that because he hadn't wanted to scare her, but she had guessed the fact that Monica and her baby were the ones in danger.

"A'right, and you think it's gonna happen to this woman you met because . . ."

"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them," Sam snapped.

Alyson, who had been silent until then, said, "It's how they found me."

Alyson moved behind Sam on the bed and, despite Dean and John being in the room, she got on her knees and started to rub his temples, which he had been pressing as hard as he could to try and reduce the pressure.

"Let me. My mom used to get headaches and she could never do this right, either."

"He had a vision about you?" John asked her.

"Technically, he dreamed the demon was coming after her," Dean said.

"What?"

"Yeah, it started out as nightmares, and then he started havin' em' while he was awake."

"It's like the closer I get to anything involving the demon, the stronger the visions get. They're more painful too."

"A'right, when were you gonna tell me about this?" John asked, irritated.

Sam had been relaxing because of Alyson's gentle fingers circling at his temples, but now his stress levels went back up. He really didn't feel like arguing with his dad right now.

"We didn't know what it meant," Dean explained.

"Something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me."

Alyson seemed to tense behind Sam and her hands stopped moving. She probably felt the need to defend Dean again; he wasn't sure how Dean felt about that because it wasn't something Dean was used to.

But this time Dean didn't need anyone defending him. This time Dean got right in front of his dad and told him what was what.

"Call you? Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence. Sam called you when I was dying. Gettin' you on the phone, I've got a better chance of winnin' the lottery."

Sam had expected an angry retort from his dad. In fact, he'd expected a full on argument to start, a fight like the one he and his dad had gotten into when he'd decided to go to Stanford.

John, however, admitted that Dean was right.

"I'm not crazy about this new attitude of yours, but you're right. I'm sorry."

"Look, guys, visions or no visions, the fact is we know the demon is coming tonight and this family is gonna go through the same hell we went through," Sam said.

"No, they're not," Alyson said, sitting down beside him now. "Because we're gonna stop it."

John stood up and started for the weapons bag that he always carried with him.

"A'right each of us needs holy water. Only the Colt will kill this thing, but we each need a weapon in case there are other's there. Chances are there won't be, but still . . ."

John was in his element, giving orders and making plans. Sam and John ended up with the demon detail while Dean and Alyson were assigned the mission of getting the family out of the house.

Sam had smiled when Alyson had basically deflated from relief when she realized she wouldn't have to face the demon directly.

She wouldn't admit it, Sam knew, but she wasn't ready to face this particular threat. Even if she had been trained properly, she wasn't emotionally ready to kill something that could appear human.

For all intents and purposes, they would be killing a human since demons needed bodies to ride around in. Really . . . Sam didn't feel great about killing humans either, but he did know they needed this demon dead so they could get on with their lives.  
\-----  
Dean and Alyson were in the middle of helping John go through his every day weapons – the ones they were going to be using that night – just to make sure they all worked properly.

One of the Winchester Rules was to always check your weapons before going into a fight.

When Sam's phone rang he immediately grabbed it from his pocket and answered. Alyson could tell by the confused expression on his face that he hadn't known the number.

After only a few seconds, Sam looked at Dean, shocked.

"Meg? Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window."

Alyson could tell that Dean was shocked too and this made Alyson wonder who this Meg person was. Why was it such a shock that this Meg person was calling them and what had Sam meant about her falling out of a window? How high up had she been?

Sam put the phone on speaker and motioned for the rest of them to be silent.

"Yeah, thanks to you." Meg said. "That really hurt my feelings, by the way."

"Just your feelings? That was a seven-story drop."

"Let me speak to your dad." It wasn't a request; it was a demand.

Alyson was curious, though, as to how this Meg had come to fall from a seven-story window and how she was now alive to tell the tale.

She obviously wasn't human.

Sam made protests about not knowing where his dad was, but John was already coming to the phone.

"It's time for the grownups to talk, Sam. Let me speak to him now."

John hesitated before answering, and Alyson realized that he was giving it enough time so the girl would think he had taken the phone from Sam.

"This is John," he said. He didn't take the cell off of speaker phone; he obviously wanted everyone to hear what was going on. If they were going to be working together, they all needed to be on the same page.

"Howdy, John. I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your boys. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood."

John looked down at the floor now and Alyson saw his back stiffen. She thought this Meg girl had just made a serious mistake by admitting she'd killed Jim Murphy.

"Still there, John boy?"

"I'm here."

"Well, that was yesterday. Today I'm in Lincoln visiting another friend of yours. He wants to say hi."

Suddenly a male voice came over the line. "John. Whatever they do, don't give –"

"Caleb?" John interrupted. "Caleb?"

When he didn't get an answer John continued talking. This time his words were directed at the girl.

"You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with this. You let him go."

"We know you have the Colt, John."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, okay." Meg sounded amused. She was enjoying this back and forth between her and John. "So, listen to this."

There was a pause and then Alyson heard the most horrifying noise she could ever remember hearing. She could tell just from the sounds he was making that his throat had been slit. Over the line was coming a wet gurgling noise. It sounded like the man was trying to breathe or talk but wasn't able.

Alyson couldn't take it. Her mom would've made those noises; her mom would've choked on her own blood. Had her mom tried to scream?

Thoughts of her mother trying to yell for help only to find she couldn't filled Alyson's head. The way her mom had probably grabbed at her throat only to feel the blood gushing out . . .

Alyson clapped her hands over her ears to drown out the sound coming from the phone. A large, warm hand fit over the small of her back and she knew without looking that it was Dean. It was odd how familiar his touch was to her already and she hadn't even known him that long.

She was pulled tight against his chest and she continued holding her hands over her ears.

"Can you hear that? That's the sound of your friend dying. Now . . . let's try this again. We know you have the gun, John. Word travels fast. So, as far as we're concerned, you just declared war, and this is what war looks like. It has casualties."

The sounds suddenly stopped and Alyson hesitantly removed her hands from over her ears only to let her fingers cling greedily onto Dean's plain over-shirt.

"I'm gonna kill you. You know that?"

"Oh, John, please. Mind your blood pressure.

"So, this is the thing. We're gonna keep doin' what we're doin', and your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, given you shelter, anyone you've loved . . . they'll all die unless you give us that gun."

Alyson lifted her head slightly away from Dean's chest to watch the emotions play out on John's face.

He knew they needed that gun to kill the yellow-eyed demon; he couldn't just hand it over to whoever this girl was. If he didn't do as she requested, however, it would be his fault when people kept dying.

"Okay," he said quietly. "I'll bring the Colt."

Wait. He was giving her what she wanted? Really? That couldn't be. They had risked their lives to get that thing and now he was just planning on handing it over?

Sam and Dean must've felt the same way because they were both looking at their dad like they didn't know him.

"There's a warehouse in Lincoln, on the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're gonna meet me there at midnight tonight."

"That's impossible. I can't get there on time, and I can't carry a gun on a plane."

"Oh. Then I guess your friends die, don't they?" She paused. "If you do decide to make it, come alone."

Sam closed his phone and no one said anything for the longest time. Alyson was the one who broke the silence.

"Okay, she isn't human, right? She's a demon?"

She didn't really care from where Sam and Dean knew her. Alyson had gotten enough information to know Meg wasn't good news just from the fact that the girl had walked away unharmed even though she'd fallen from a seventh-story window.

"Either that or she's possessed by one. It doesn't really matter," John answered.

"Okay, good," Alyson said. "I had hoped she was something supernatural. I don't want to think about a human with that kind of capacity for evil."

Dean, who had long since ceased holding Alyson, said, "No kidding."

To John he said, "What d'we do?"

"I'm going to Lincoln." John shook his head. "If I don't go, a lot of people will die. Our friends will die. It doesn't seem like I have a choice."

"Right," Alyson said. "You're gonna fix this by giving Meg what she wants so she can kill us. And, yes, that was sarcasm, by the way."

"Dad, this demon is coming tonight for Monica and her family. That gun is all we've got. You can't just hand it over."

"Who said anything about handing it over?" John asked. "Look, besides us and a couple of vampires, no one's really seen the gun. No one knows what it looks like."

"So . . . what? You're just gonna pick up a ringer in a pawn shop?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Antique store," John corrected.

"You're gonna hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?"

"Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference."

Alyson could tell John was growing impatient. He probably didn't appreciate the conversation, didn't appreciate them questioning his decision. They didn't really have many options to choose from and he was working with the two they did have.

"What happens when she figures it out?" Dean nearly shouted, causing Alyson to flinch slightly.

"I just need to buy a few hours, that's all."

"You mean for us," she said when she realized John was planning on going alone like Meg wanted. Someone had to stay and protect Monica and her family; they would need the Colt.

"You want us to stay here . . . and kill this demon by ourselves?" Sam asked quietly.

"No, Sam," John exploded, turning his back on them. "I wanna stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home. I want Mary alive. I just . . . I just want this to be over."

Alyson could hear the tears in his voice even though he had his back to her. She hadn't imagined John even thinking about Sam going to school or Dean having a permanent home. She'd been wrong to assume such things because he obviously did.

Maybe after tonight he'll get his wish, Alyson thought.

It would be nice if everything could go back to normal.  
\-----  
While Dean went to find a gun that looked like the Colt, Sam and Alyson stayed behind to help John pack. Every instinct had told Alyson to go with Dean because he needed someone right then; his dad was leaving him again.

But wouldn't Dean have asked if he'd wanted company?

It didn't really matter because Dean was already gone and had been for about thirty minutes. Still, she felt she should've been with him – or that someone should've been.

"You know this is a trap, don't you? That's why Meg wants you to come alone."

Alyson was new to hunting, but she wasn't stupid. One should never split up in a situation such as this.

"I can handle her. I got a whole arsenal loaded."

"Hm."

Dean's Impala pulled in beside them and Dean got out. He had a gun-shaped thing wrapped in brown cloth and he handed it to John.

They were in the parking lot of the motel in which they had spent the night. Alyson didn't think it was such a good idea to do all this in public, but she guessed it was alright as long as no one was around.

"Dad?"

"What?"

"Promise me something," Dean said, and Sam, who had been helping load up the truck, stopped what he was doing and turned his attention to Dean and John. "This thing goes south, just get out. Don't get yourself killed. You're no good to us dead."

John nodded and said, "Same goes for you."

John took the real Colt out of his jeans and handed it to Dean. Alyson hoped this Meg had never heard a description of the gun because the only thing that matched the fake one was the length and type.

"A'right, listen to me. They made the bullets special for this Colt. There's only four of 'em left. Without 'em, this gun is worthless. You make every shot count."

"Yes, sir," Sam said.

"I've been waiting a long time for this fight. Now it's here, and I'm not gonna be in it. It's up to you guys now. It's your fight. You finish this; you finish what I started. You understand?"

"We'll see you soon, Dad," Sam said confidently.

"Yeah. I'll see you later."

John got into his truck and drove away.

Dean didn't say anything; he just watched the truck until it was out of sight.

Alyson grabbed Dean's arm and squeezed gently. She let go almost immediately, though, because she wasn't positive Dean would accept her comforting gesture. It was also quick because she wasn't comfortable comforting him.

Alyson suddenly wondered how they were going to do this. How were they going to kill this demon? What would happen if they did?  
\-----  
Back inside the motel room Sam went to take a shower. Dean knew that it was because Sam just needed something to do. Aside from making sure everything was in working order, there was nothing else for them to do.

Dean grabbed a gun and began cleaning it for the same reason Sam was taking a shower; he needed something to take his mind off of everything. Alyson was sitting on the bed opposite him and he knew she really had nothing to do.

She brought her phone out and began scrolling through something, Dean didn't know what. It didn't matter, because she did it for only a few minutes and then she went to get her laptop out of her bag.

Dean was really worried. His shoulders were tense and his hands were trembling – not enough for Alyson to notice, but trembling nonetheless.

He put the gun down and sighed. Alyson looked at him but then glanced back at her computer screen. He clearly wasn't going to get her to speak first; she wasn't the most talkative to begin with.

Dean needed to talk, though, and he couldn't talk to Sam about this.

"We should've gone with him" Dean said. "He's walking into a trap."

There. He'd said it out loud. He thought his dad was walking into a trap. In fact, he'd take it a step further and say he wasn't sure he'd be seeing his father alive again.

"I think he knows that," Alyson said. "I told him that myself, actually. He said he could handle her."

Alyson closed her laptop and went over to sit beside Dean.

"This family . . . the demon is attacking tonight. You guys have to help them."

"You mean we," Dean said. "You're a part of this too."

"Right. Like I'll really be able to do anything helpful tonight."

"You're a natural at fighting and you can handle a gun decently now. Trust me, that'll be plenty helpful."

Dean got up from his spot on the bed and began pacing; usually this was Sam's thing, but Dean couldn't keep still.

"You know, I've been thinking about what you said . . . about us giving up our lives, our happiness, to help others. It's not fair."

"No, it's not. But you do it every day. You guys suffer so that other people don't have to."

Dean sighed and sat back down. "You suck at giving pep talks."

"I'm not trying to cheer you up," she said simply. "I'm just being honest."

And she was honest, almost to a fault. That was one reason she had trouble being whatever she needed to be for whichever case they had to work.

For a few minutes the only sound filling the room was the water running in the bathroom. The silence wasn't awkward between them, but it did make it easier for Dean to keep thinking and that was the last thing he wanted. What with Sam having had this vision and Meg going after all of their friends and now John going after Meg, Dean had way too much to worry about.

"Hey, do you . . . sense anything off about Sam?"

"What?"

"His visions."

Dean knew someone having visions didn't have to mean anything bad, but there were some who thought that people who had visions weren't even human.

"Well . . . I was freaked out, but I didn't sense anything weird or bad. But, I mean, it's probably because they're random. He can't control them. Plus . . . he's not using them for evil. That probably makes all the difference."

Alyson was using logic, Dean noticed, and it did make sense. Sam wasn't using his visions for evil. It still bothered Dean that the visions were connected to Yellow-Eyes.

"So he freaked you out, huh?"

Alyson's face brightened a bit both from blushing and from grinning. Dean felt an answering tug at his own lips.

"I didn't know what was happening. No one told me what went on when he has visions. I just thought he was getting a migraine."

Things were silent again, but Dean did feel a little better. Alyson smiling – something the girl did so little of, and who could blame her – made Dean's insides loosen up slightly.  
\-----  
As the day went on, Alyson began to see that Sam's and Dean's priorities were completely different. Dean was more worried about John, while Sam was borderline obsessed with killing the yellow-eyed demon.

Alyson understood both sides. The demon had killed both Sam's girlfriend and his mother, Dean's mother, and John was the only thing that Sam and Dean had left.

She hoped no one did anything to get them all killed, and by no one she meant Sam. In this case, Alyson was sure Dean was the one with his head screwed on right.

"Maybe we can tell them there's a gas leak. Might get 'em out of the house for a few hours."

"Yeah, and how many times has that actually worked for us?"

Sam was silent for a moment, but then said, "Could always tell 'em the truth."

"All that would accomplish is getting us thrown in the nuthouse," Alyson said. "Not everyone would just believe you guys. I mean, I wouldn't have if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

Sam smiled slightly. "I know, I know, I know. It's just . . . with what's coming for those people tonight . . ."

"Sam, we've only got one move and you know it. We've gotta wait for that demon to show itself and then we get it before it gets them."

Alyson picked up the Colt, which Dean had been fiddling with earlier, and just took it in. She'd never really looked at it, never really handled it. There was an inscription on the gun along with a pentagram. The inscription read non timebo mala. She knew it was talking about evil, but that was the extent of her knowledge of Latin.

"What does this say?" she asked.

"I will fear no evil," Sam said.

Oh, of course Samuel Colt wouldn't have had to fear evil if he'd had this weapon to defeat any evil he had come across.

She suddenly wondered how John was fairing with his mock Colt. Had he even reached his destination? If he had, was he okay?

It was true that she was worried about John – more because of Sam and Dean than for any real concern she felt for John – but she wasn't sorry for not going with him. Meg had wanted him to go alone, and so he had.

This family needed Sam's and Dean's protection.  
\-----  
That night, outside Monica's house, the three sat in the car waiting for the demon to arrive and, in Alyson's case, hoping that they all survived when he did.

Music was playing softly from the radio and Alyson was trying to get lost in the beat so she wouldn't become more nervous than she already was.

"Where'd you learn to fight?" Dean asked from the driver's seat.

"Uh, San Francisco at a karate place."

"Why?"

She hesitated, considering how to answer. She didn't want to sound jaded or cynical, but she knew that was exactly how her words would appear.

"Because in today's society everyone needs to be able to defend themselves. I started about five years ago. They were offering a few defense lessons at school because there had been a lot of rapes recently. My mom wanted me to take the class.

"I ended up actually liking it, so my mom signed me up at a dojo and . . . there you go. Uh, I used to walk to and from school when the weather was nice, and a lot can happen when you're a girl and you're walking alone. Ghosts and demons aren't the only monsters in this world. Humans can be pretty twisted even without the evil."

A few minutes later, Alyson saw a man closing the curtain showing in a window at the front of Monica's house. It was obviously time for bed in that household.

"This is weird," Sam said.

"What's not weird?" Alyson asked. "We're waiting for a demon to show up."

"No, I mean . . . after all these years, we're finally here. It doesn't seem real."

Alyson guessed for Sam and Dean that must be true. For her, it was opposite. It was too real and she wouldn't have minded more time to get ready for this particular fight.

"We just gotta keep our heads and do our jobs like always," Dean said.

"Yeah, but this isn't like always."

That was true enough.

"Dean, uh . . . I wanna thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything. You've always had my back, ya know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone else, I could always count on you. And now . . . I dunno, I just wanted to let you know . . . just in case."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you kiddin' me? Don't say 'Just in case somethin' happens to you.' I don't wanna hear that speech, man. Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody . . . except that demon. That evil son of a bitch ain't gettin' any older than tonight, you understand me?"

Alyson could tell Dean was, in fact, worried about Sam getting hurt, because Dean sounded angry and that was how Dean dealt with negative emotions: he got angry.

Dean brought out his cell phone and dialed a number. About ten seconds later he hung up.

"Dad's not answering."

"Maybe Meg was late," Sam said. "Maybe cell reception's bad."

"Or maybe he cut his phone off or it's on silent. I mean, he wouldn't want the phone to give away his whereabouts if he's hiding."

The wind started blowing like crazy outside the car and Alyson tensed up; that wasn't just a normal breeze.

"Guys . . ."

The street lights started flickering and the house lights soon followed.

"It's coming?" Dean asked.

"Something is."

Sam picked up the Colt, which was beside him in the front seat.

"Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this was my favorite chapter to write! I think I like my writing better when John's not in it. And I also like that it's in Dean's nature now to comfort Alyson.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Aly have an almost argument.

Dean reacted first when Sam said "Let's go," but Sam and Alyson were quick to follow him across the street. When they reached the front door of Monica's house Dean picked the lock easily and they all walked in. All the lights were off, but Dean didn't know if it was because the demon was close by or because the family had settled into bed.

They moved further into the house. A man entered the room with a baseball bat. He swung at Alyson. It would've connected with her head had she not ducked. Dean had a few seconds to feel grateful for her reflexes but then the man swung at Dean. His reflexes were sharp too, however, and he was able to catch the bat in mid-swing and he pinned the guy against the wall with it, holding it against the guys' chest.

"Get out of my house!"

The guy probably thought they were robbers.

"Be quiet and listen to me. We're trying to help you, okay?" Dean said.

"Charlie, is everything okay down there?" Monica's voice came from upstairs.

"Monica, get the baby!" Charlie screamed and pushed Dean away.

"No, don't go in the nursery," Sam shouted, running up the stairs.

Alyson suddenly grabbed Charlie and punched him. She must've hit him exactly right because the guy went down and he was unconscious. When Dean looked at Alyson she shrugged sheepishly.

"What else was I supposed to do?"

He was just surprised that she'd been able to pack such a powerful punch.

Dean lifted Charlie over his shoulder. "Go check on Sam. I'll take this guy outside."

She nodded and began running upstairs.  
\-----  
When Alyson got upstairs she saw Monica on the floor with Sam trying to help her stand. There was no demon, however, even though she'd heard a gunshot not even two seconds ago.

"Rosie," Monica screamed.

"I've got her," Alyson said and went toward the crib. She picked Rosie up just in time. The crib burst into flames, causing Alyson to jump back.

"Come on!" Sam shouted.

Alyson ran as fast as she could without endangering Rosie. There was already smoke filling the house so she draped the blanket Rosie had been wrapped in over Rosie's head so the baby wouldn't inhale too much.

She followed Sam down the stairs and out the front door. Dean was still outside with Charlie, who was now awake. When Charlie saw Monica, he came towards them.

"What just happened?" the man asked.

As he got closer Alyson noticed he already had a bruise forming where she had hit him on the side of his face.

"They saved us," Monica said and stepped forward to take Rosie. "Thank you."

"No problem."

Alyson smiled softly but quickly began scanning their surroundings. She still had the chills and she didn't know why – until Sam started speaking.

"It's still in there."

Alyson looked at Sam, who was looking up at the house. The demon was engulfed in the flames in the nursery. Something told Alyson that the flames weren't even touching him and probably couldn't hurt him.

Sam began making his way back towards the door, but Dean grabbed him to prevent him from moving further.

"Let me go, Dean. It's still in there!"

Alyson watched helplessly as Sam struggled to be free of Dean's grip.

"It's suicide," Dean said. "The house is burning to the ground."

"I don't care."

"Well, I do," Dean shouted.

Even as Sam and Dean yelled at each other, Alyson saw the demon disappear into thin air. Sam must've seen it too because he began fuming, but he also stopped fighting to get in the house.

Monica, Charlie, and Rosie were all huddled together by the road. There were sirens in the distance. Someone had obviously called the fire department.

"We should go," she said and Dean nodded.

Alyson and Dean began walking and Sam reluctantly followed. As soon as they were all in the car, Dean tried calling John again.

"Come on, Dad, answer your phone." He hung up. "Somethin's wrong!"

Sam didn't say anything. He just stared into space.

"Did you hear me? Somethin's happened."

"If you had just let me go in there, I could've ended all this," Sam said softly.

"Sam, the only thing you would've ended was your life," Alyson said.

He turned and looked at her.

"You don't know that."

Dean started the car and began driving. "So, what, you're just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?"

"Yeah," Sam stated, turning back around, "I am."

"Yeah, well, that's not gonna happen. Not as long as I'm around.

"What are you talkin' about, Dean? We've been searching for this demon our whole lives. It's the only thing we've ever cared about."

"Sam, I wanna waste it. I do, okay? But it's not worth dying over. I mean, if huntin' this demon means you gettin' yourself killed, I hope we never find the thing!"

Sam shook his head but remained silent.  
\-----  
When they got back to the motel Sam basically stalked through the door and sat the Colt on the one table in the room. Dean followed his brother inside and Alyson came in last. She shut the door behind her.

Dean had half a mind to tell her to go back outside because he knew he and Sam were about to come to blows. If they hadn't just had a run in with the demon he might've asked her to wait in the car.

"That thing killed Jess," Sam said softly. "That thing killed Mom."

And here it goes, Dean thought.

"You said yourself once that no matter what, they're gone. And they're not coming back."

Faster than he could blink, Dean was up against the wall. Sam had grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him. Dean felt the cheap motel wall move behind him, but he didn't fight back. He really didn't want to get into it with his brother.

"Don't you say that! Don't you . . . not after all this, don't you say that."

"That's enough!" Alyson shouted.

Both Dean and Sam looked at her. She was glaring at both of them. Dean was just shocked that she'd risen her voice to them. She'd never really shown any signs of anger towards them before.

Dean guessed there was a first time for everything.

"Sammy, look, the three of us . . . that's all we have. And it's all I have." Sam loosened his grip. "Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together." Sam let go completely. "Without you and dad . . ."

A look of realization came over Sam's face and he turned away from Dean.

"Dad. He should've called by now. Try him again."

Sam turned back around as Dean reached for his phone. Dean bit his lower lip when he felt it trembling but then he dialed the number.

Dean wasn't expecting an answer so when someone picked up he was relieved for maybe two seconds until he heard Meg's voice.

John had been captured. The demons had his dad.  
\-----  
"What'd she say?" Sam asked after Dean explained the conversation he'd had with Meg.

"I just told you, Sammy."

He grabbed the Colt from the table and put it in the back of his jeans. He moved quickly around the room putting stuff in a duffle bag.

"Help me!"

"What're you doing, Dean," Sam asked.

Alyson started packing her stuff. She'd never seen Dean this frantic before and it was beginning to make her nervous.

"We gotta go."

"Why?"

"Because the demon knows we're in Salvation, a'right? It knows we've got the Colt, it's got Dad, and it's probably comin' for us next."

"Good," Sam said.

Alyson really didn't understand Sam's definition of good.

"Sam, just listen to him, okay?"

"No, not okay. We've still got three bullets left. Let it come."

"Listen, tough guy, we're not ready. We don't know how many of 'em are out there. Now, we're no good to anybody dead. We're leaving. Now."

Dean walked out the door and Sam huffed angrily.

"Why're you agreeing with him? I'm right about this."

"No. You're not."

"You're just saying that because you have a crush on him."

By the way he'd said that, he wasn't trying to be mean – he was just stating his opinion – but it still rubbed Alyson the wrong way.

It rubbed her the wrong way because it was true that she had a crush on Dean and Sam had noticed. She felt something for Dean, but it wasn't why she was agreeing with him.

"Okay, number one, that's none of your business. Number two, if you think I would agree with someone when I think they're wrong just because I care about them then you don't know me very well. And three, that has nothing to do with any of this."

She was planning on picking up her bag, which she had been steadily packing as she'd been talking, but Sam spoke again.

"Then what is it about?"

"Dean thinks John is still alive, Sam. That may or may not be true, but Dean thinks it is. We have to make sure."

"But this demon –"

"Dean doesn't care about killing this demon if it means losing his family. It's like he said . . . it's not worth dying over. And killing this demon . . . it won't bring your girlfriend or your mom back. I'm sorry, Sam, but it's the truth."

Sam clenched his jaw and didn't say anything. He did, however, start packing his stuff. If Alyson hadn't been so irritated with him she would've helped him pack.

As it was, she walked out of the room with her stuff and ran to the car. She got in and tossed her bag beside her onto the seat.

"Sam'll be out in a minute."  
\-----  
Tension filled the Impala as Dean sped down the road like a bat out of Hell. The tension wasn't caused by silence because someone would say something every once in a while – plus Dean had the music blasting.

No, the tension was from Sam being angry, Alyson being irritated, and Dean being worried.

"I'm tellin' you, Dean, we could've taken him," Sam said.

Dean ignored him, which made Sam even angrier.

"What we need is a plan. Now, they're probably keeping Dad alive. We've just gotta figure out where. They'll want to trade him for the gun."

Sam shook his head. "Dean, if that were true, why didn't Meg mention a trade?"

"To freak you guys out," Alyson answered. "Make you make a mistake, throw you off your game."

"No. He might be –"

"Don't!" Dean interrupted.

Sam knew Alyson had just been trying to help Dean, but he thought being honest was more helpful in this situation. Dean needed to come to terms with the fact that their dad might be dead.

"Look, I don't wanna believe it any more than you, but if he is . . . all the more reason to kill this thing. We still have the Colt. We can still finish the job."

"Screw the job, Sam," Dean said.

"Dean, I'm just tryin' to do what he would want. He would want us to keep going."

"Would you quit talkin' about him like he's dead already? Listen to me. Everything stops until we get him back, you understand me? Everything."

There was no arguing with Dean when he was like this.

"So, how d'we find him?"

"Maybe we could go to Lincoln. Start at the warehouse he was taken from."

"Come on, Dean, you really think those demons are gonna leave a trail?" Alyson asked.

"You're right."

Sam noticed, with just a bit of jealousy, that Dean wasn't using his angry voice with Alyson. Sam guessed that voice was for little brothers only.

"We need help," Dean admitted.

"Bobby?" Sam suggested and Dean nodded.

Bobby was an old friend and a hunter. He lived in South Dakota. He owned a place called Singer's Autos – it was basically a junkyard in front of a dirty house. Car parts had been scattered around the yard the last time Sam and Dean had been there.

Sam wondered if Bobby had changed at all over the years. He and John had had a falling out of sorts a while back and neither Sam, Dean, nor John had heard from Bobby since.  
\-----  
Alyson looked around as Dean pulled onto a dirt road that was leading them to a dirty old house. It was located right beside a junkyard. There was a blue tow truck with a sleeping dog on the hood of it.

Alyson assumed the animal was not a watchdog because it just laid there when they pulled up. The dog may have sniffed a little, but that was pretty much it – and that may have been giving the dog too much credit.

They got out of the car and walked to the front door. Dean knocked on the door hesitantly. An older man opened the door. He seemed surprised to see the two guys and then his eyes fell on Alyson.

"Who's this?" he asked curiously.

"Um, it's kind of a long story," Dean said, "but she's with us and has been for about two months.

Bobby moved out of the way and let them in. Alyson introduced herself and Bobby shook her hand. As Bobby led them into the living room Alyson noticed there were books everywhere. She would've had a field day there in her old life, and she still felt a little excited – as only a book lover would be - to be in the room with all the books. There were hundreds of books in the living room. She wondered if they were all about monsters and such.

They walked further into the house and Bobby picked up two flasks. He handed one to Dean.

"What is this? Holy water?"

"That one is." Bobby nodded to the one he himself was holding. "This is whiskey."

He took a swig, grimaced at the taste, and then handed it to Dean, who took a drink also.

Sam went toward one of the tables full of books. Alyson followed and stood beside him. There were a few open books with symbols on the pages, but she didn't know what they meant.

Sam nudged her arm with his elbow and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Alyson looked up and into Sam's eyes to make sure he was sincere. All she got was puppy dog eyes. She nodded anyway but didn't say anything. She looked in Dean's direction. He was talking to Bobby. She assumed he was telling Bobby what was going on.

Sam nudged her arm again so she looked back at him.

"Forgive me?"

He flashed a more intense puppy-dog look and she had to turn her head away so he wouldn't see her grin. He'd done that look on purpose.

"Yeah. I guess. Just don't do it again."

She sat on the edge of the table and picked up a book to read. It was huge and heavy and there was a picture of a pentagram with other symbols in the spaces of the star. According to the book, it was a protective circle and it could trap a demon.

She handed the book to Sam, who sat down in a chair on the other side of the table.

"Read that."

As Sam read Bobby and Dean came over to them.

"Bobby, thanks. Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure we should come."

"Nonsense. Your daddy needs help."

"Yeah, but last time we saw you, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot. I mean, you cocked the shotgun and everything."

Bobby shrugged. "Yeah, well, what can I say? John just has that effect on people."

Alyson grinned. She hoped that story was true because it was funnier if it was true. Plus, John did rub people the wrong way, and it would explain why Dean had been hesitant to knock earlier.

"Anyway, none of that matters now. All that matters is that you get him back."

"Bobby, this book," Sam started, referring to the book that Alyson had picked out, "I've never seen anything like it."

Bobby went over to look at it.

"The Key of Solomon? It's the real deal, a'right."

"And these protective circles? They really work?"

"Oh, yeah. You get a demon in one, they're trapped, powerless. It's like a Satanic roach motel." Bobby looked up and pointed. "I keep one in this room in case I get visitors from down under. I don't like to be caught unaware."

"That might help, considering what's coming for us," Sam said.

"I'll tell ya somethin' else too. This is some serious stuff you people stepped into."

"Yeah? How's that?"

"A normal year, I hear about three demonic possessions, maybe four – tops. This year I've heard of twenty-seven so far. You get what I'm sayin? More and more demons are walkin' among us . . . a lot more."

"Do you know why?" Alyson asked.

"No, but I know it's somethin' big. A storm's comin' and you three and John . . . you are smack in the middle of it."

Alyson kept thinking about how just a couple months ago she hadn't even known demons existed and now she was in the middle of a war with them.

She suddenly got the chills. She actually started shivering this time. She didn't know if it was because it had happened once already or if it was because she was tired, but she did known that something was coming.

"Um, guys . . ."

The dog that had been lying on the truck started barking. When the dog stopped its howling, Bobby hurried to the window.

"Rumsfeld. He's gone. Something's wrong."

Something was wrong. The door was kicked in and a girl with short blond hair came strutting in. She was wearing a red leather jacket, black shirt, and blue jeans.

"No more crap, okay?" she asked.

Dean walked toward her but was flung into a stack of books on the far right side of the room. At first Alyson thought Meg must've hit Dean – demons probably had super strength – but then she realized the girl must have telekinesis. Dean had never been touched.

Dean wasn't moving. He was probably unconscious.

In a selfish way, Alyson wondered what would happen if Sam and Dean got so hurt that they couldn't protect her anymore.

Because Dean was out, Sam jumped from his hair and stood in front of Alyson, shielding her from Meg.

"I want the Colt, Sam. The real Colt. Right now."

"We don't have it on us. We buried it."

"Didn't I say no more crap? I swear after everything I heard about you Winchesters, I've gotta tell you, I'm a little underwhelmed."

Alyson saw Dean trying to get up and he did without much of a problem. He looked their way, and when Alyson caught his eyes, he looked up and Alyson knew his plan. They needed to lead Meg into the room and under the protective circle.

"First, Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckle heads. Lackluster, man. I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

Alyson grabbed Sam's shirt sleeve and began leading him backwards so Meg would come further into the room.

"Actually," Dean said, coming up behind her, "we were counting on it."

He looked at the ceiling again to where the protective circle was. Meg was directly underneath it now. Meg's eyes flashed with fear when she realized she was trapped. It was the first time Alyson had seen any sort of vulnerability in this girl or demon or whatever she was.

"Gotcha," Dean said.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Meg was tied to a chair in the middle of the living room. She was underneath the protective circle and so far it was holding up wonderfully. As long as she'd been there she'd been staring at Alyson, though, and it was unnerving to the teenager, to say the least.

"You know, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask." That had been directed at Dean.

"I'm gonna go salt the doors and windows," Bobby said, "make sure that if there are demons out there, they can't get in here."

Sam and Dean nodded.

"You should go help him," Dean said and looked at Alyson.

"I'm fine where I am," she said.

"You're shaking."

To be honest, she hadn't really noticed the shaking until then. It had begun when Meg had come in and Alyson had grown used to it.

"Distance won't help. I'd still be able to feel her if I was upstairs."

"Aly, please. It'll get done faster."

Something in Dean's voice told her he wasn't asking just because the job would get done quicker with two people. She knew Sam and Dean might have to do something Dean didn't want her to see.

She sighed and looked at Bobby, who she'd already begun to like. "I guess we should get started."

Bobby nodded and turned to walk away. She followed him into the kitchen, which was surprisingly clean. He grabbed two big gasoline cans filled with salt and handed one to her. She was barely strong enough to hold it.

"So, what's the deal with the girl?"

"I don't know. I just know she should be dead. Sam said she dropped from a seven-story window."

"Hey, you think this is a game?" Dean shouted in the other room. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

Apparently Meg wasn't cooperating.

Bobby sat his salt can down and went out the doorway to the other room while Alyson went to each window in the kitchen and poured a line of salt over each opening. She did the same thing to the back door. She went into the room she'd originally been in and salted the front door and the windows.

Meg's eyes followed her, but Alyson tried to ignore her. She'd read in a book somewhere that you shouldn't talk to evil things because they would try to trick you and get in your head.

After a few moments, however, Alyson couldn't handle the constant staring so she snapped out a "What?" at the girl.

"Nothing. I'm just tryin' to figure it out."

"Well, that's nice and vague." Alyson rolled her eyes. "What are you tryin' to figure out?"

"What makes you so special? I'd heard you were supposed to be extremely powerful. I've gotta say, I'm disappointed."

Alyson walked away from Meg and joined Sam and Dean, who were talking to Bobby.

"You've gotta be careful with her," Bobby said. "Don't hurt her."

"Why?" Alyson asked. "I mean, she fell out of a window. It's kind of a moot point now, don't you think?"

"She really is a girl," Bobby said. "She's possessed. That's a human possessed by a demon."

Alyson remembered that John had said something about Meg either being a demon or being possessed by one. If Bobby was right then . . .

"You're tryin' to tell me there's some innocent girl trapped in there?" Dean asked. "That's actually good news."

"How is that good news?" Alyson asked.

"Because we can send the demon back to Hell."

"Oh . . . Have you guys ever done that before?"

"Once," Sam answered.

All Alyson could think about was Linda Blair in the Exorcist, all spinning head and vomiting pea soup. If it was going to be anything like the movie, Alyson wanted to be elsewhere.

"You'll be fine," Dean said to her even though she hadn't spoken her thoughts out loud. Then to Sam he said, "Go get Dad's journal."  
\-----  
After Sam went out to get the journal, Dean went to Alyson and asked, "What did she say to you? When you were talking to her?"

Alyson shrugged. "She said she was disappointed. She said that she thought . . ."

"What?"

Dean knew Alyson didn't like talking about herself, but if the demon had said anything they needed to know about it.

"She's heard that I'm supposed to be more powerful than I actually am."

"Hm . . ."

Maybe she was supposed to be. Sam's visions had progressed, so maybe Alyson's powers would grow too. Dean didn't know what that meant. So far Alyson could heal – which was actually kind of cool and useful – and she could feel when weird and unnatural things were around. Maybe that meant that she'd eventually be able to locate demons or something.

Sam came in a few minutes later and Dean noticed he was already flipping through the pages.

"Aw, are you gonna read me a story?" Meg taunted.

"Somethin' like that," Dean answered. He looked at Sam. "Whenever you're ready."

Bobby went into the kitchen and then came back out with a can of salt. He went upstairs to finish what he and Alyson had started.

Sam started reading from the journal. It was a Latin exorcism. Sam could probably recite it from memory if he wanted to because he'd actually paid attention when John had been teaching them.

"An exorcism?" Meg asked. "Are you serious?"

"Oh, we're goin' for it, baby. Head-spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards," Dean said.

"Thanks so much for that mental image," Alyson said. "I was already worried enough."

Meg winced as if she were in pain and Sam stopped reading.

"I'm gonna kill you," Meg said. "And I'm gonna start with her. All of your protection won't mean a thing."

Dean looked at Alyson, who had frozen at the threat, and noticed she had paled slightly.

"I'm gonna make you watch as I rip the bones from her body."

"No," Dean said, tensing slightly. "You're gonna burn in Hell unless you tell us where our dad is."

Meg didn't say anything to that so Dean gestured for Sam to read again. At least this demon would get a nice tan where it was going.

Suddenly Meg screamed. "He begged for his life with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his sons one last time. That's when I slit his throat." Meg looked over at Alyson and smirked. "Just like I slit your Mommy's."

A very audible gasp came from Alyson and Dean's gaze settled on her. Alyson was still frozen in place, but she was no longer pale. Dean could almost see the girl's brain working putting together some pieces and taking apart others.

He wanted to tell Alyson not to believe anything Meg said. Demons lied all the time. But this time . . . Dean didn't think Meg was lying, not about Alyson's mom. It even made sense. The yellow-eyed demon had a pattern and the way Alyson's mom had been killed didn't fit it.

Sam, Alyson and he had discussed that previously, but they hadn't had any other leads but Yellow-Eyes; that demon had been at the house when Alyson had arrived home.

"For your sake, I hope you're lying about my dad," Dean said and leaned over Meg. "'Cause if it's true I swear I will march into Hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you, so help me God"

Meg screamed again and the pages from the open books on the table Sam and Alyson had been sitting earlier started flipping on their own.

"Where is he?" Dean asked.

"You just won't take dead for an answer, will you?"

"He's not dead. He can't be!"

He was desperately clinging onto what he hoped to be true. His dad couldn't be dead. Dean would know, right? He would feel it if that had happened. No, Meg had to have stashed him somewhere and if she wanted to live she would cooperate.

The lights started to flicker and Meg's chair started scooting across the floor on its own. Dean was relieved to see that the protective circle was holding up.

As the wind picked up Dean felt someone grab his arm. He knew it wasn't Bobby or Sam because the hands were too small, so it had be to Alyson.

"Is that normal? The lights and all?"

"Flickering lights go with demonic activity."

"Hm . . . Is she in pain?"

"The demon? Who cares?"

"No, the girl. Is she screaming or is the demon –"

"He will be!" Meg said. "He's not dead."

Sam stopped reading and the demon tied to the chair slumped in relief.

"He's not dead, but he will be after what we do to him."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Dean asked.

"You don't."

"Can't say I didn't see that one coming," Alyson quipped. "Sam, keep reading."

Dean glanced back and forth between Meg and Alyson. When Aly had given Sam the go-ahead Meg's eyes had turned black as pitch. She'd also looked surprised that Alyson had made the decision to proceed with the exorcism.

"A building, okay?" Meg sounded desperate. "A building in Jefferson City."

"Missouri? Where?"

"I don't know."

"And the demon, the one we're looking for . . . where is it?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. I swear. That's all I know."

Dean took a deep breath and considered his options. One: he could allow the demon to live because it had helped him or, two: he could get Sam to complete the exorcism and send this demon back to Hell, where it belonged.

Neither option had a good ending. Option number one left the girl alive but possessed. Option number two would most definitely leave the girl dead.

"Dean . . ." Alyson called to him and he looked at her.

He could tell Alyson had already made her decision and it was written all over her face what the answer was, what the right thing to do was. How nice it must be to be so sure of oneself.

"Finish it," she said.

"What? I told the truth."

"You're possessing that poor girl," Alyson said. "This way she'll be free."

Sam, however, didn't do anything. "We can still use her . . . find out where the demon is."

"She doesn't know," Dean said.

"She could be lying."

At that moment Bobby came downstairs, salt can in hand, and he walked over to them.

"Sam," Alyson said, "there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there. You have to help her."

"You're gonna kill her," Bobby said. "You said she fell from a building. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it, the girl is gonna die."

"Well, we can't just leave her like that, a prisoner in her own body. It's wrong."

"She's a human being," Bobby said.

"Then we're gonna put her out of her misery," Dean said heatedly. "Sam, finish it."

Sam still hesitated.

"It's the right thing to do, Sam," Alyson said. "If it were me, I'd want you to do it."

Sam started reading again and Meg began twitching. Her eyes turned coal black again. Dean wondered if the girl was in pain – he hadn't thought about that until Alyson had brought it up. He thought the demon was definitely in pain.

Eventually she threw her head back and let out a long agonized scream. Black smoke flew out of her mouth as the demon exited the body. The smoke went toward the ceiling and disappeared. Meg's head fell forward. She wasn't moving, which was no surprise, and there was blood dripping from her mouth down onto her legs.

Her head moved. She was trying to lift her head up.

"She's still alive."  
\-----  
Dean was the first to react, but Sam wasn't far behind.

"Call 911!" Dean said. "Get some water and blankets."

Bobby left to go do that while Sam and Dean untied the ropes from around Meg's wrists.

"Thank you," she said.

"Hey, just take it easy, a'right," Sam said.

The brothers grabbed her gently and lifted her from the chair while Alyson backed away. She had no clue what to do now. She didn't think they should be moving the poor girl – not that it mattered – but she had never had a day of medical training, so she kept her mouth shut.

She knew the girl had internal damage because Meg was bleeding from her mouth, but that was the extent of Alyson's knowledge. Well . . . that and she knew Meg was going to die.

Meg grimaced as she was laid out on the floor and Alyson felt tears sting behind her eyes. She hated seeing people in pain.

God, please don't let her suffer much longer, she prayed. She didn't understand all the needless suffering people went through.

She knew they had done the right thing, though. Even though Meg was going to die, she was still free.

"A year," Meg said. "It's been a year."

Alyson came forward now and knelt beside the dying girl. She grabbed Meg's hand and was surprised when she felt a squeeze.

"I've been awake for some of it. I – I couldn't move my own body. The things I did . . . it's a nightmare."

Meg coughed and blood came out of her mouth, but she swallowed most of it back down.

"It's scared of you," she said, looking at Alyson. "It thought you could hurt it. It knew about your powers and where they . . . where they come from."

"Was it telling the truth about our dad?" Dean asked. "We need to know."

Alyson would've been angry at Dean for focusing on John when this girl was about to die, but she understood the need to know and she had wanted to ask a question herself: Where did her powers come from?

"Yes," Meg said. "But it wants you to know . . . that they want you to come for him. They want her to come."

"If Dad's still alive, none of that matters."

Bobby came back, two blankets and a glass of water with him. Sam and Dean took the blankets and tried to make Meg as comfortable as they could and then Dean let her sip from the glass.

"Where's the demon we're looking for?" Sam asked.

"Not there. Other ones . . . awful ones."

"Where are they keeping our dad?"

"By the river," she said, and Alyson felt Meg's grip loosen on her hand. "S-sunrise."

"Sunrise? What does that mean?" Dean asked but didn't get an answer. "What does that mean?"

Meg's hand hung loosely in Alyson's.

"She's gone, Dean." Alyson pulled away from Meg and stood up. "She's not suffering anymore."

Alyson wiped away the tears from her eyes – they had never spilled over, but they had been threatening to. She felt faint, the events of the day obviously catching up to her now.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean hadn't stopped looking at the lifeless body in front of him. Alyson hoped he wasn't blaming himself for her death. Unless he'd wanted to keep the demon around . . . there hadn't been anything else to do.

"Dean, we didn't have a choice," Alyson whispered.

He stood up now and faced her. "You're okay with this?" He gestured to the dead girl on the floor.

"No, I'm not okay with it. I'm saying we didn't have a choice. And don't get defensive with me – you could've stopped Sam at any time."

"Hey, you better hurry up and beat it before the paramedics get here," Bobby said. "I called them about three minutes ago."

"What're you gonna tell 'em?" Sam asked and stood up.

"You guys think you invented lying to the cops?" Bobby asked. "I'll figure somethin' out."

He gestured for them to wait a minute and Sam nodded. Bobby took off to one of the books on one of the tables.

"Aly, I want you to stay here," Dean said.

"What? No. Why?"

"You heard Meg. The demon wants you to come. It's waiting for you to get there."

"Or maybe that's what the demon wants us to think. Maybe it's waiting for you guys to leave me so it can get to me."

"She could be right," Bobby said, coming back with a book in his hands. "Here. Take this. You might need it."

It was the book they'd been looking at earlier.

"Thanks," Sam said, taking the book.

"Yeah, for everything," Dean said. "Be careful, a'right?"

"You just go find your dad, and when you do, bring him around, would ya? I won't even try to shoot him this time."

Sam, Dean, and Alyson went out to the car and got in. Dean started the car.

"I still think you should stay here."

"Well, I'm not going to, so get over it."  
\-----  
About an hour into the trip, Alyson fell asleep. Dean didn't know how she could sleep after what she'd just heard and seen, but she was spread out across the backseat, her head pillowed against one of her shirts.

She slept the entire time after that and neither Dean nor Sam thought to wake her up. She needed her sleep and she couldn't help with anything anyway.

Dean made the nine hour car ride in only seven hours and he was surprised and relieved that he hadn't gotten them into a car accident. Alyson didn't wake up when they passed over train tracks even though it was super bumpy and she still slept when they found somewhere to park near the river.

She eventually got out of the car and stretched.

Dean wanted to hurry up and get moving, but Sam wanted to go over a few things before they took off and was now going through the book Bobby had given them.

To make time pass by quicker, Dean went through the weapons in his trunk. He made sure the guns were loaded, the knives were sharp, and the containers for holy water had water in them that was blessed.

Sam moved to the trunk and began drawing something on it with a silver marker.

"Dude, what're you drawing on my car?"

"It's called a devil's trap. Demons can't get through it or inside it. It basically turns the trunk into a lockbox."

Sam moved to the other side, wiped some dirt off, and began drawing again.

"Why're you drawin' it on my car?"

"We need a place to hide the Colt while we go get Dad."

"Wait, we're not taking it with us?" Alyson asked. "I mean, Meg said there were a bunch of demons waiting for us."

"We can't," Sam said. "We've only got three bullets left. We can't just use 'em on any demon. We've gotta use it on the demon."

"No, we have to save Dad," Dean countered. "We're gonna need all the help we can get."

"Dean, you know how angry Dad would be if we used all the bullets. He wouldn't want us to bring the gun."

"I don't care, Sam! I don't care what Dad wants, okay? And since when do you care what Dad wants?"

"We wanna kill this demon. You used to want that, too. I mean, you're the one who came and got me at school. You're the one who dragged me back into this, Dean! I'm just tryin' to finish it."

Dean had to stop himself from hitting Sam. Getting their dad back unharmed – or . . . well, relatively unharmed – was more important than ending this demon. If they got their dad back, they could go after this thing together like they had planned on doing.

"Wow. You and dad are a lot more alike than I thought, you know that? You both can't wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing, but you know what? I'm gonna be the one to bury you. You're selfish, you know that? You don't care about anything but revenge."

"That's not true, Dean. I want Dad back, but they are expecting us to bring this gun. They get the gun, they will kill us all. The Colt is our only leverage and you know it, Dean. We cannot bring this gun. We can't."

Sam wasn't going to give up on this so Dean sighed. "Fine."

"I'm serious, Dean."

"I said fine, Sam."

Dean took the Colt out of his coat pocket, showed it to Sam, and placed it in the trunk. Sam walked past him and went to sit in the passenger seat so he could read some more.

Alyson, who had wandered over to the water when he and Sam had started arguing, came to stand beside him now. She was staring in Sam's direction, but Sam wasn't noticing anything but the pages in front of him.

She grabbed the Colt out of the trunk and smoothly slipped it back into Dean's coat pocket.

"We're gonna get your dad back," she said. "One way or another."

She gestured at the bag at his feet, which he'd had a mind to fill with weapons and things while she'd been sleeping.

"You got everything you need?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice betraying how relieved he was that at least someone was on his side.

He let out a breath that was halfway between a sob and a laugh, and before he knew it he was wrapping his arms around her and pulling her towards him. He'd only hugged her one other time and that had been when he'd been comforting her when Meg had been on the phone and those atrocious noises had been coming from her side.

Comforting Alyson with a hug was less complicated than the one he was giving her now. This one was a way of saying thank you, and because she hadn't been expecting it Dean noticed that she had tensed before returning the embrace. He kissed the top of her head before he let her go.

Dean went to the passenger side where Sam was seated, still reading, and said, "Come on, and grab the bag."

"We're walking?" Alyson asked.

"Yeah. Meg said it was by the river. It can't be too far from here."

"Plus, we can't sneak up on anyone in this thing," Sam said as he went to get the bag.

The Impala did have a little purr in her.  
\-----  
It wasn't long after they started walking that they came across some apartment buildings. They were named Sunrise Apartments.

Sunrise. And here Alyson had been thinking the demon had been talking about an actual sunrise – as in John would be dead by sunrise. Maybe the demon meant John was being kept here.

"Guys?" She pointed to the building.

"Huh. That's pretty smart," Dean said. "I mean, if these demons can possess people, they can possess almost anybody inside."

"Yeah, and make anybody attack us," Sam added. "So . . . we're basically sitting ducks."

"Yeah, and we can't kill 'em. A building full of human shields."

"They probably know exactly what we look like, too, and they can look like anybody."

"This sucks out loud."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam sighed. "A'right . . . so how are we gonna get in?"

Neither of the guys said anything so Alyson spoke up.

"Um . . . I have a really bad but really good idea. We could pull the fire alarm. The people who aren't possessed would leave – only the possessed would be waiting for us."

"Okay. Not a bad idea," Sam said, "but then the city responds in, what, seven minutes?"

"Seven minutes exactly."

"Okay, well, I'll go flip the switch and I'll stay in there and wait for you guys," she said.

"You can't go in by yourself," Dean said.

"If I don't go in there now, I won't be able to go in at all. And it's not like I'm gonna do anything that's gonna get me hurt."

Truth be told, she didn't want to go off by herself either, but she did need a way in. She would just keep her eyes and ears open, and she would definitely get out of there fast if her spider senses started tingling.

After entering the building she found the alarm and pulled it. She waited by the entrance in a place that wasn't in plain view. People began stampeding through the hallway and even more came down the stairs from the floor above her. So far, she didn't feel anything was amiss.

A little after the firetrucks arrived, Sam and Dean came through the front door in fireman outfits. They each had a can of water – Alyson assumed they had blessed it – and Dean had an EMF meter in his hands and he was checking each room. Sam still had the bag that Dean had told him to bring.

Around room number twenty-five Alyson began to get that now familiar feeling of being around something supernatural.

"Something's close."

At room number thirty-three the EMF went off. Apparently this was where the demons were hiding.

Dean knocked on the door. "This is the fire department. We need you to evacuate."

When the door opened Sam and Dean started spraying with holy water the woman that had opened the door. Sam continued spraying her while Dean moved further into the room. A man came to help the woman but stopped when he saw Alyson.

She stared back at him and his eyes turned black. What was up with that? Maybe her presence offended him or something

Sam sprayed the man with holy water and he hissed in pain. Alyson still wondered if the humans felt pain too whenever the demon was hit with holy water or was being cast out by an exorcism.

She couldn't worry about that now, however, because they needed to focus on the task at hand, which was finding John. Since the guys had everything under control she began to search the apartment. The whole apartment was pretty open – only one door was closed.

That meant, of course, that she needed to open it. She was glad she did, because John was lying on a bed inside the room, his hands and feet tied to the posts. She walked slowly toward him and saw blood on his face, but other than that he seemed okay. He was either asleep or unconscious, but he didn't have any major damage.

She heard a door slam and she jumped, sure that she'd been locked in the room, but when she looked the door was still open. Sam and Dean were locking the two demons in a closet. Sam poured a ring of salt on the floor around the door. He'd gotten the salt from a can in the bag Dean had made him carry.

Once the guys had secured the demons in the closet Alyson gestured for them to come to her.

"Your dad's here."

The guys checked him over much like she had and were satisfied when they realized he was breathing fine on his own. There was a cut above his left eye and the blood from that had run down to his chin. That wound was probably why he was unconscious.

Dean pulled a knife from his pocket – they had ditched the outfits once the demons had been locked away – and was getting ready to cut the ropes that bound John to the bed when Sam told him to wait.

"He could be possessed for all we know," Sam said. "Dean, we've gotta be sure."

They both looked at Alyson but she just shrugged.

"I can't tell. The other two are still here, so . . ."

"Right."

Sam got a bottle of holy water – they must have run out of the water in the spray cans – and poured it on John, who woke up. There were no sudden grunts or hisses of pain. John was clean. He wasn't possessed.

"Sam?" John looked and sounded dazed. "Why're you splashin' water on me?"

Dean grinned a little, Alyson let herself huff a few laughs, and Sam seemed to relax a little.

"Dad, you okay?"

"Yeah, but they've been drugging me."

They were going to have a problem getting out of the apartment, especially if they ran into more demons.

"Where's the Colt?" John asked.

"Don't worry, Dad. It's safe."

"Good." John was exhausted. "Good."

Alyson looked at Dean, who caught her gaze and nodded minutely. He still had the Colt with him.

A door suddenly opened. Two guys had come into the apartment. They had black eyes – demons. One of them looked like a regular every day man, while the other one was dressed like a fireman and he was holding an ax.

Alyson reacted quickly by closing the bedroom door and locking it. The blade of the ax came through the door and stopped inches from her face. She let out a small scream that sounded more like a squeak and her heart skipped a few beats.

Sam yanked her away from the door and put a line of salt in front of it.

"Come on," Dean said.

He was hauling John toward the window where there was a fire escape. She waited for Dean to get out, then John went and then . . . then it was her turn. She made it through without a problem and Sam followed shortly after. He put salt on the windowsill.

Now that they were all out, Alyson just followed where Dean led them. There was a ladder that led to the ground and Dean was starting to go down it. John was alert enough to be able to climb down by himself, though when he reached the last wrung he just let himself fall to the ground.

Alyson was supposed to go next but she didn't move.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"I don't like heights." Her stomach began twisting and her breath came in pants. "I could fall."

"You're not gonna fall. I'll even go first if you want and I'll catch you if you do."

It wasn't like she had a choice. The only way she could go was down unless she wanted to go back inside and face the demons.

"Okay."

Sam started moving down and she turned to step onto the ladder. Her whole body was shaking and her hands were sweaty. She squeezed the bar tightly and breathed deeply.

She was learning to fight evil monsters, so this shouldn't have been so hard. Climbing down a ladder should be a walk in the park. When she finally reached the bottom she found she couldn't let go. She only had a few feet to drop, but she couldn't force herself away from the ladder.

Hands grabbed her waist and she knew Sam had her. She could let go now. She began breathing normally only when her feet were placed on solid ground again.

There were still demons around and she could still feel them. They needed to leave, but John looked like he was about to collapse. He needed rest.

Sam began to head for the road, but was tackled to the ground. Some guy began pounding on Sam's face over and over again. Dean was busy helping John, so Alyson rushed over to Sam and kicked the guy who was hitting him. It didn't help.

The guy was obviously a demon. He had to be or the kick she'd given him would've broken his nose. Or maybe she had broken the man's nose and because he was possessed it hadn't fazed him . . . or maybe he was in pain right now but couldn't express it because the demon was in control.

Suddenly she was sailing through the air and she didn't care whether or not the man was feeling pain because, no matter what else was happening, the demon was in control and there was nothing she could do about that.

She landed back-first on a car and the window smashed under her weight. She felt as glass ripped into her skin, tearing through the shirt she was wearing.

The sound of a gunshot jolted her senses and she made herself get up even though her back was aching from the impact of the landing and burning from the glass cutting her skin. She had to know who had been shot. What if it had been John or Sam, or . . . Oh, God, what if it was Dean?

Sam was on the ground, blood coming from the side of his head, both nostrils, and his bottom lip. He was hurt – and the head wound bothered her the most – but he hadn't been shot. Beside Sam, however, was the guy who'd been punching him. He was dead. He had a bullet wound and . . .

Dean had used the Colt, so he was dead-dead.

Alyson slid off the car gingerly, testing her body to see if it still worked. She hurt all over, but nothing seemed broken. She was even able to walk perfectly, she found, as she made her way to Sam and Dean, the first of whom was being helped to his feet by the second.

"You guys okay?" Dean asked.

"I'll live," Sam said.

"My back hurts. I think there's glass in it."

"We'll take care of that when we get to the car."

"Yes, please," she said, wondering if they would indeed make it to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like writing Dean's POV even if I don't think I write it well! I know in the show Dean made the decision to exorcise Meg, but I wanted to show that Alyson is capable of making the hard decisions as well. Also, I feel Dean needs more support than he has on the show, and this was Alyson's way of doing that.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The climax of this part of The Light Saga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have about half of the next part of this series done, and I will be putting the first chapter on next week some time. It will be titled Beginning To See The Light, but it can be found under the series tag thing.

When they all reached the car Sam hopped in the back while Dean helped their Dad get in the front.

"I think we're being followed," Alyson said. "We should hurry."

Once John was situated Dean rushed to the trunk, opened it up, and pulled out a first aid kit.

"You're hurt," Dean said. "I'm gonna take the time to fix it."

Dean shrugged out of his jacket and held it out for her. "You're gonna have to take your shirt off. Cover yourself with this."

Alyson looked around nervously as if she thought someone would see her.

"It hurts to move my back. You're gonna have to do it."

Saving her any embarrassment he could have made her feel if he'd really wanted to, he switched into professional mode. Dean had a feeling that Alyson had never even kissed a guy let alone taken her shirt off in front of one.

He turned her away from him so he could pull the shirt away from her skin and bring it up and over her head and down her arms. She barely had to move at all.

"Why do you think we're being followed?"

"I can feel them. So we have to hurry."

He let Alyson slip his jacket up her arms and over her chest. She leaned forward onto the car.

Dean focused on her back and saw a few cuts on her skin, but there was a huge batch of them on her right shoulder.

That was probably what was making it hard to move her back.

As his hands touched her back he heard her release a deep breath. She'd probably thought he was going to be rough since they were in a hurry. He couldn't risk hurting her further, however.

"It's not that bad," he said. "It'll only take a few minutes."

He grabbed the medical tweezers and gently began getting the glass out of her back. His hands slipped a little when he saw for himself how it looked for her to heal. It was as if there had never been a cut at all. As soon as a piece of glass was pulled out her skin would seal up and no scar was left as a reminder either.

After all the glass was removed, Dean used her ruined shirt to clean the blood off of her skin.

"You're good now, and I don't know how you do that, but it's pretty cool."

"Thank you," she said and turned around. "For getting the glass out, not for –"

"I know," he said. "You tried to help Sam. It's the least I could do."

"Hm."

She quickly turned the jacket so she was wearing it the right way and she zipped it up so she was covered.

"You know . . . I killed that guy back there."

"Dean, you had to. He would've killed Sam."

"Sam. I should –" Sam was hurt too.

"I'll take care of Sam," Alyson said and took the first aid kit from him. "You drive. We need to get away."

Dean drove until they reached an old rundown cabin. It was one of his dad's haunts. They used to stay there when they needed a place to crash until they found another gig.

Dean helped his dad into bed before he did anything else. Dean figured his dad just needed rest. John had been drugged and the best way to get him back on his feet was to let him sleep it off.

Alyson had made good on her promise and had fixed Sam up in the car. His eye was swollen shut and they couldn't do anything about that, but none of his wounds were bleeding anymore – not even the cut on his forehead.

Alyson was putting salt in front of the doors and windows. Dean didn't know if it was being done as a precaution or if she still thought they had been followed, but Dean was glad that her first response was to guard against any demons that may be coming their way.

"Hey, uh, Dean," Sam said. "You, um . . . you saved my life back there."

Sam leaned against the wall and Dean sat on the corner of the table. They were in a room that was considered a study.

"So I guess you're glad I brought the gun, huh?"

"Man, I'm tryin' to thank you here."

"Well, you're welcome."

Dean's gaze dropped to the floor as he thought about what he'd done to save Sam – and his dad, for that matter. It wasn't that he didn't care about Meg or the guy he'd killed earlier, because he did. He cared about people so much, but . . . when it came to his family, he had to protect them. That was his job, especially when it came to Sam.

"Hey, Sam? You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there."

"You didn't have a choice, Dean."

Sam was saying the same thing Alyson had said earlier. He was glad that they could rationalize and compartmentalize. Dean figured he might be able to, too, if he hadn't been personally involved in what had happened.

"That's not what bothers me," Dean said. "I mean, killin' that guy, killin' Meg . . . I didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch. For you, or Dad, the things I'm willin' to do or kill, it just . . . it scares me sometimes."

"Well, it shouldn't," Alyson said. "You were protecting your family. It sucks that a human had to die in the process, but it shouldn't scare you that you want to protect the people you care about."

"She's right." John's voice came from behind them and Dean turned around. His dad was there looking almost as good as new. "You did good."

"You're not mad?" Dean asked.

"For what?"

"Usin' a bullet."

"Mad? I'm proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you . . . you watch out for this family. You always have."

The lights began flickering and the wind picked up outside. They had been followed as Alyson had thought.

"It found us,' John said and headed over to the window. "It's here."

"The demon?" Alyson asked and John nodded.

"Sam, lines of salt in front of every window, every door."

"I already did it," Alyson said.

"Well, check it, okay?"

Sam nodded and left the room.

"Dean, you got the gun?"

"Yeah."

"Give it to me."

"Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It vanished."

"This is me. I won't miss. Now, the gun. Hurry."

Dean brought the Colt out of the back of his jeans, looked at it, but didn't give it to his dad. Something felt off about this.

"Give me the gun. What're you doing, Dean?"

"He'd be furious," Dean said, backing away a little and placing himself in front of Alyson. "He'd be furious that I wasted a bullet. He wouldn't be proud of me. He'd tear me a new one. You're not my dad."

Dean raised the Colt and took the safety off, aiming at John.

"Dean, are you sure?" Alyson asked.

"No, Dean. It's me," John said.

"I know my dad better than anyone, and you're not him."

Whoever this was, it wasn't John Winchester. For one . . . this version wasn't as intense as his dad was and he was too . . . calm and steady.

"What has gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

John began moving forward and Dean gestured for him to stay back.

Sam came back in the room but stopped when he saw what was going on.

"Dean, what're you doing?"

"Your brother has lost his mind," John said.

"He's not Dad," Dean replied softly. "I think he's possessed. I think he's been possessed since we rescued him."

"Don't listen to him, Sammy."

"Dean, how do you know?" Sam asked and looked at Dean.

"He's just . . . he's different."

Alyson let out a gasp and grabbed the back of Dean's shirt.

"It would explain how I've been feeling since we found him. Maybe we weren't followed at all. Maybe we brought something with us. Meg said they wanted us to come. The demon wouldn't have to find us if we came to him."

"You know, we don't have time for this," John said. "Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you've gotta trust me."

Sam looked back and forth between Dean and John. He was obviously torn between who he should believe. Dean won out in the end, however.

"No," he said and moved to stand beside Alyson and Dean. "No."

"Fine." John's lips started trembling. "You're so sure? Go ahead. Kill me."

John looked at the floor, and Dean felt his eyes burn. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. What if he was wrong about his dad being possessed? They had thrown holy water on him. If he shot John and he wasn't possessed, his dad would be hurt for nothing.

After a few seconds hesitation, Dean lowered the gun. He couldn't pull the trigger when he wasn't completely sure that his dad wasn't really his dad.

"I thought so."

John looked up and Dean's heart clenched. His dad had yellow eyes. He wasn't just possessed by a demon; he was possessed by the demon.  
\-----  
Alyson grunted as her back hit the wall on the right side of the room. Sam had been flung to the left and Dean had been thrown into the wall right in front of the demon.

Dean had dropped the Colt when John – no, not John. The demon – had sent him flying and the demon was now picking it up off the floor.

"What a pain this thing has been." He looked at Alyson and walked towards her. "Just like you. You're smart, though. I'll give you that."

Alyson couldn't move. The demon was coming at her and she couldn't move an inch. It was as if the air around her had hardened, keeping her in place.

When he was right in front of her she glared at him defiantly. She was frightened, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of showing it.

"I gotta tell ya, I thought killin' you was gonna be easy. Luckily I was wrong."

"Why? Why are you after me?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"If I knew I wouldn't have asked, now would I?" she asked.

The demon's eyes flashed and he grabbed her chin tightly – so tightly that it hurt – and she grimaced.

"Hey!" Dean shouted, but the demon ignored him.

"That pretty mouth of yours is gonna get you into trouble someday."

"Tell me why!" she commanded, ignoring what the demon had said. She just wanted to know what it was that had made the demon come after her. She knew she was supposed to be some source of goodness, but really . . . all she could do was heal herself and feel when demons were around.

The demon let go of her chin and walked to the corner of the room, still looking in her direction. Alyson took that time to look at Sam and Dean. They were just as frustrated as she was and they couldn't move either.

"I don't know all the boring details, but you're supposed to be very powerful. More powerful than you are now. You'd get stronger if I let you live past tonight." He turned to the guys then. "You boys have been lookin' for me for a long time. You finally found me."

"I'm gonna kill you," Sam said furiously.

"Oh, that'd be a neat trick. In fact, here." He put the Colt on the table where Dean had been sitting earlier. "Make the gun float to you there, Psychic Boy."

Sam looked at the gun, concentrated on it. He tried to do exactly what the demon had suggested, but it wasn't working. Was telekinesis even one of Sam's abilities?

The demon chuckled. "Well, this is fun." He turned to Dean now. "I could've killed you a hundred times today, but this . . . this is worth the wait. And your dad? He's in here with me – trapped inside his own meat-suit. He says hi, by the way."

As the demon moved closer to Dean Alyson thought about how easy she'd had it compared to Sam and Dean. At least her mother had just been dead. She didn't know what she would've done had she come home to find her mother possessed.

"He's gonna tear you apart. He'd gonna taste the iron in your blood."

"Let him go," Dean seethed. "Or I swear to God –"

"What?" the demon interrupted. "What're you and God gonna do? You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice."

"What're you talkin' about?" Sam asked.

"You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter. And the one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand?"

Alyson scoffed. "Oh please."

"What?" Yellow-Eyes turned to her. "You guys are the only ones who can have families? You destroyed my children."

He walked to her and got in her face again. "How would you feel if I killed your family?"

She glared at him. She had never felt hate before . . . not ever before until right then. She'd never felt murderous rage either, but she really wanted to get free and get the Colt so she could kill this thing.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot, I did. Still, two wrongs don't make a right."

"You didn't kill my mom. Your daughter did. She kinda let that slip before we sent her back to Hell."

Yellow-Eyes laughed and then backhanded her. The force of it sent the side of her head reeling into the wall. Her lip split and she grit her teeth to keep from crying out in pain. The taste of blood filled her mouth even as her lip healed.

"Don't touch her!" Dean yelled but was ignored.

"She was right. I didn't kill your mom."

"No, but you are the reason she's dead. You sent that demon there, didn't you? Mom would've died whether I'd been there or not."

"Well . . . let's just say if your mother hadn't died you wouldn't be where you are right now."

"I wanna know why. Why'd you do it?" Sam asked and the demon turned to look at him.

"You mean, why'd I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?" Yellow-Eyes turned to Dean. "You know, he never told you this, but he was gonna ask her to marry him. Been shoppin' for rings and everything. You wanna know why, Sam? Because they got in the way."

"In the way of what?"

"My plans for you, Sammy. You and all the children like you."

"Listen," Dean said. "You mind just getting this over with, huh? 'Cause I really can't stand the monologuing."

"Funny. But that's all part of your M.O. Mask all that nasty pain, mask the truth."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"You fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is . . . they don't need you, not like you need them. And Sam . . . he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you."

"Yeah, I bet you're real proud of your kids, huh? Oh, wait. I forgot. I wasted 'em."

The demon backed away from Dean and a second later Dean was bleeding from his chest and he was screaming in agony.

"Dean!" Sam and Alyson screamed in unison.

"Dad, don't you let it kill me!"

Blood started coming out of Dean's mouth.

"Stop!" Alyson shouted. "Stop it!"

Suddenly she could move. John seemed to be in control at the moment because Sam could move too, now. Sam grabbed the Colt and pointed it at John, who had lost control of the demon.

Dean had fallen to the floor and Alyson wanted to rush to him, but with John being possessed she didn't know how to get past him.

"You kill me, you kill Daddy."

"I know."

Sam aimed for John's leg and he hit his target. John collapsed and Alyson rushed to Dean. She slid to her knees and lifted his head to lay it on her lap.

"You've lost a lot of blood," she muttered. "We need to get him to a hospital. Now, Sam!"

"Where's Dad?" Dean asked.

"He's right here, Dean," Sam said as he came over to them.

"Go check on him. Go check on him."

Dean coughed and blood splattered on Alyson's jeans. He began closing his eyes as Sam went to do as Dean had said.

"Hey, wake up," she said softly.

She put a hand on Dean's chest where the blood was coming from and pressed on it gently. He gasped in pain and she hated that she was the one causing it, but he needed to stay awake.

He brought his hand up to hers, grabbed it, and pulled it away from his chest.

"I'm sorry, but you can't go to sleep, Dean. Or you might not wake up." She squeezed his hand tightly as tears stung her eyes. "That is not an option, do you hear me?"

"Tired," he said.

"I know, Dean, but stay awake!"

Suddenly John was telling Sam to shoot him because the demon was still inside him, still alive. Sam raised the gun and cocked it.

"Sam, don't you do it!" Dean exclaimed.

More of Dean's blood soaked through Alyson's jeans as he moved.

"Son, I'm beggin' you," John screamed. "We can end this here and now."

Before Sam could react, however, John let out a long scream and black smoke came out of his mouth. When the demon was finally out, it disappeared, going through the floor of the room.

Dean relaxed against her but kept his eyes open. He was shaking, shivering uncontrollably. He was going into shock, probably from blood loss.

They needed to get him to a hospital fast.

It took a while to get everyone in the car because Sam had to help his dad in first. John, at least, could walk a little on his own, but Sam had to pretty much carry Dean to the car and help situate him in the backseat.

Alyson got in the back with Dean and used her damaged shirt to try and stop the blood flow.

"How far away is the hospital?" she asked Sam, who had used his phone to pull up the location of the nearest hospital.

"Ten minutes."

Alyson looked back at Dean, who was fighting to stay awake. Ten minutes wasn't long enough.

"Drive fast, Sam."

As Sam started the car John said, "You know, I'm surprised at you, Sammy. Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this. Killin' this demon comes first. Before me, before everything."

"No sir. Not before everything."

"And he would've killed you," Alyson said. "You don't put that responsibility on your children."

"Look, we still have the Colt. We still have one bullet left," Sam said. "We just have to start over, a'right? I mean, we already found the demon once –"

There was a loud crash and Alyson felt herself flying towards the door and then her world turned black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is short, but seeing as it's the last chapter of this part of the series, I didn't see it fit to make it any longer.


End file.
